After the end of the war I want to devote myself
To my thoughts for five to ten years and to writing them down
War has caused unrest among the younger generation
Induction then destruction, who wants to die?
Wars come and go what remains are only the values of culture
Davy
Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.
From Balboa to Anaheim
San Bernardino to Riverside
All the kids in all L.A
Come to hear Dick Dale play
Listen to the king of the surf guitar
Listen to the king of the surf guitar
Listen, listen to the king
I look at the world and I notice it’s turning,
While my guitar gently weeps,
With every mistake we must surely be learning,
Still my guitar gently weeps.
Who draws the crowd and plays so loud, baby, it’s the guitar man
Who’s gonna steal the show, you know, baby, it’s the guitar man
He can make you love, he can make you cry
He will bring you down and he’ll get you high
Somethin’ keeps him goin’ miles and miles a day
To find another place to play
How high’s the water, mama?
Four feet high and risin’
How high’s the water, papa?
She said it’s four feet high and risin’
Bourbon blues on the street, loose and complete
Under skies all smoky blue-green
I can’t forsake a Dixie dead-shake
So we danced the sidewalk clean
My memory is muddy, what’s this river that I’m in?
New Orleans is sinking man, and I don’t wanna swim.
There is a house in New Orleans,
They call the Rising Sun,
It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy,
And man, I know I’m one…
Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked
He dropped ev’rything and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where Judas Priest did stand
“What kind of house is this,” he said
“Where I have come to roam?”
“It’s not a house,” said Judas Priest
“It’s not a house . . . it’s a home”
I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents by the tree
It’s the most beautiful time of the year
Lights fill the streets, spreadin’ so much cheer
I should be playin’ in the winter snow, but I’ma be under the mistletoe
I don’t wanna miss out on the holiday, but I can’t stop starin’ at your face
I should be playin’ in the winter snow, but I’ma be under the mistletoe
City sidewalks, busy sidewalks
Dressed in holiday style,
In the air there’s a feeling of Christmas…
Christmas jams at the tunnel
Chop through hustle and bustle
Snow and lights make wonderland
Out of this concrete jungle
On Christmas day you can’t get sore,
Your fellow man you must adore,
There’s time to rob him all the more
The other three hundred and sixty-four.
If I’d been out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?
It’s quarter to three, there’s no one in the place except you and me
So, set ‘em up, Joe, I got a little story I think you should know
We’re drinkin’, my friend, to the end of a brief episode
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road
Set 'em up Joe
They’re playing ‘walking the floor’…
I did a two-step, quick-step and a bossanova,
A little Victor Sylvester and a Rudy Valentino.
You should have seen me moving, right across the floor.
Hand me down my tuxedo; next week I’m coming back for more.
Come on, dance, jump on it
If you sexy then flaunt it
If you freaky then own it
Only when I’m dancing do I feel this free
At night, I lock the doors where no one else can see
I’m tired of dancing here all by myself