The song you’re looking for is If You Wanna Be Happy by Jimmy Soul.
And as far as Terry and Susan Jacks are concerned, they are not brother and sister, they were husband and wife at the time. Makes you warm and fuzzy all over knowing that they MIGHT have reproduced their dreck, doesn’t it? :eek:
Now, speaking of Soul, here is MEGADRECK from Hutch of Starsky and Hutch, David Soul:
“Don’t give up on us baby…”
AAAAAAAAH!
“We’re sorry. the Doper you were connected to has run away screaming. Please try your post again, or call your moderator.”
“If you want it, here it is, come and get it.
But you’d better hurry 'cause it’s going fast…”
[sub]St. Peter, don’t you call me 'cause I can’t go
I owe my soul to the comapny store…[/sub]
I can tell my sister by the flowers in her eyes
On the road in Shambala
I can tell my brother by the flowers in his eyes
On the road in Shambala
Ah woo yeah, yay yay yay yay yeah
Ah woo yeah, yay yay yay yay yeah
How does your light shine in the halls of Shambala?
How does your light shine in the halls of Shambala?
Tell me how does your light shine in the halls of Shambala?
Tell me how does your light shine in the halls of Shambala?
Bobby Sherman created this dreck: Julie, Julie, Julie do you love me
Julie, Julie, Julie do you care
And then we have a gentleman who obviously had a bike accident as a child–Eddie Holman Hey There, Lonely Girl, Lonely girl
Don’t you know this lonely boy loves you
Ever since he broke your heart you seem so loss
I could have sworn I heard the Theme From the Greatest American Hero on top 40 radio at the time, so I still figure it’s fair game. In the meantime, just to keep my hand in, here’s one we may have missed:
Love lift us Up Where We Belong
Where the eagles cry
On a mountain high.
Love lift us Up Where We Belong
Far from the world below
Up where the free winds blow
What can I say – I’m a Christian. It’s my duty to torture Heathens! [tongue out of cheek]happy heathen, the more I see of you, the more I like you.
“When we get behind closed doors,
then she lets her hair hang down
and she makes me glad that I’m a man . . .
Oh no one knows what goes on behind closed doors!..”
[sub]I dreamed I was there in Hillbilly Heaven,
Oh, what a beautiful dream…[/sub]
I remembered another story song that ended up being dreck to the nth degree:
“Taxi” by Harry Chapin And she said, “How are you Harry?”
I said, “How are you Sue?
Through the too many miles
and the too little smiles
I still remember you.” [snip]
You see, she was gonna be an actress
and I was gonna learn to fly.
She took off to find the footlights,
and I took off for the sky.
And here, she’s acting happy,
inside her handsome home.
And me, I’m flying in my taxi,
taking tips, and getting stoned,
I go flying so high, when I’m stoned.
Mr. Happy: That song is dreck. I don’t know if you were joking, but “sequel” to “Taxi” that you mentioned is the same song, I just left off the first stanza.
If you notice I did not include “Same Old Lang Syne” by Dan Fogelberg. It is borderline dreck, but didn’t quite make it there but it was awfully close and some may think it sang it’s way into dreck Met my old lover in a grocery store the snow was falling Christmas Eve
[snip]*
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Reliving in our eloquence
Another auld lang syne*
[sub]You are just jealous cause Rico and me have included some really good dreck neener neener :)[/sub]
LOL - I just had a flashback of Robin Williams’ stage show where Mr. Happy was the name of his penis LMAO.
Fogleberg? Great!
I thank you for the music
And your stories of the road
I thank you for the freedom
When it came my time to go –
I thank you for the kindness
And the times when you got tough
And, papa, I don’t think I
Said ‘I love you’ near enough –
The leader of the band has died
And his eyes are growing old
But his blood runs through
My instrument
And his song is in my soul –
My life has been a poor attempt
To imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy
To the leader of the band
I am the living legacy
To the leader of the band.
Deb - which beach are you “8 miles from?” Left or right coast? I grew up 6 blocks from the left coast and still live around there
My only excuse is that the marvelous file that Happy typed out and I transferred to Excel (with all the songs that have been included here) so nice and organized and alphabetized is at home, not here at work…damn it
Oh well, let’s try this…
It’s impossible to tell the sun
To leave the sky,
It’s just impossible.
It’s impossible to ask a baby
Not to cry,
It’s just impossible.
Can I hold you closer to me
And not feel you going through me,
But the second that
I never think of you?
Oh, how impossible.
I’m too young to know what the hell most of these are. I mean I’m just 25, I grew up in the 80’s ferchrissakes!
But…
I had a very unhappy collegehood with regards to music. I worked at a radio station on campus. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal right? You figure, college radio station will play college student oriented music right? Right? RIGHT?!?
No.
See, some bastards in the communications department ran the thing and they had it licensed as a PUBLIC radio station which used University Facilities and whose staff was paid through the University, but which existed for the community, not University. So these same bastards appointed themselves Director of the Radio and Television Communications Department and Station Manager and got to decide what kind of music got played and what didn’t.
Well, the first one was a terrible letch of a guy who had been married/divorced more times than Michael Jackson has had nosejobs and the second guy pretended to be respectable but had a “secret” life of womanizing and sneaking off to play “golf” for a week at a time.
So you’ve got two guys, middle-aged, who get to decide what type of songs they’re going to play on what amounts to their own personal radio station. Guess what the station’s target demographic was?
Women between the ages of 20 and 40.
Mostly adult contemporary, but nothing under 15 years old and the sappier the better was their rule. Basically they wanted to be able to walk into the bar(and every bar without a DJ in this one-horse town played the station, oh, and no bars had DJs) and if some chick said “I love this song!” They could say something like “I’m glad you like it, I’ll tell them to play it more often if you like.” Bang, instant hook. We played cheesy make-out music pretty much nonstop.
Do your worst people. I worked there for two and a half years. There is no bad song you can dredge up from your collective memories that will bother me, I’ve heard them all. I’ll even top you, I’ve actually recieved REQUESTS for things like Cat Stevens and the scars that left are impregnable.
[tongue out of cheek]happy heathen, the more I see of you, the more I like you.
)