Twisty, thank you every day for your being.

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
but she’s just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change

And I’ve done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I’m starting to see
Maybe it’s got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Ooh, you see that skin?
It’s the same she’s been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she’s left
cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman’s good, good heart

On behalf of every man
looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

In junior high chorale, we stopped singing en masse until the teacher cut it from the program. I think it came from flower dumb song musical or something.

I’m a girl and by me it’s only great
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervey

I adore being dressed in something frilly
When my date comes to get me at my place
out I go with my joe or john or billy
like a philly who is ready for the race!

When I have a brand new hair do
and my eye lashes all in curl
I float like the clouds on air do
I enjoy being a girl

(it just gets worse from there … won’t torture)

INTRO:
In the hustle of the day, we’re all inclined to miss
Little things that mean so much
A word, a smile, and a kiss
When a woman loves a man, he’s a hero in her eyes
And a hero he can always be if he’ll just realize
She may be weary, women do get weary
Wearing the same shabby dress
And when she’s weary, try a little tenderness
She may be waiting, just anticipating
Things she may never possess
While she’s without them, try a little tenderness
It’s not just sentimental, she has her grief and her care
But a word that’s soft and gentle makes it easier to bear
You won’t regret it, women don’t forget it
Love is their whole happiness
And it’s all so easy, try a little tenderness

Pony: I would post a pic here if I knew how or if it were deemed appropriate. Since I’m not all svelte and long and lean, I haven’t put but one of me on my company website. And that one has me cutting out a window for a wall we’re putting up and i’m not looking at the camera at all.

She looks in the mirror and stares at the wrinkles that weren’t there yesterday
And thinks of the young man that she almost married
What would he think if he saw her this way?

She picks up her apron in little girl-fashion as something comes into her mind
Slowly starts dancing rememb’ring her girlhood
And all of the boys she had waiting in line

Oh, such are the dreams of the everyday housewife
You see ev’rywhere any time of the day
An everyday housewife who gave up the good life for me

The photograph album she takes from the closet and slowly turns the page
And carefully picks up the crumbling flower
The first one he gave her now withered today

She closes her eyes and touches the house dress that suddenly disappears
And just for the moment she’s wearing the gown
That broke all their minds back so many years

Oh, such are the dreams of the everyday housewife
You see ev’rywhere any time of the day
An everyday housewife who gave up the good life for me

www.theguitarguy.com/thankhea.htm

Ah, the Fifties: when you could sing about pedophilia in the movies, and joke (to the accompaniment of a roaring laugh track) about beating the shit out of your wife on TV.

“Hey, you know what paradise is?
It’s a lie, a fantasy we create about people and places as we’d like them to be
But you know what truth is?
It’s that little baby you’re holding, it’s that man you fought with this morning
The same one you’re going to make love with tonight
That’s truth, that’s love”

Then she talks about “crying for unborn children that might have made her complete.”

And it’s musically offensive as well as morally!

For what it’s worth, in retrospect, I am very glad to have had my daughter by planned cesarean. I’m sure not of the natural birthing extremists’ school that all cesareans are evil. I really kind of like the petrie dish idea, myself. And, even farther out on a limb, how about parthenogenesis? (if we could only figure out a way to maintain and increase genetic diversity in the process)