I don’t care if Monday’s black
Tuesday, Wednesday heart attack
Thursday never looking back
It’s Friday I’m in love
I remember Sunday morning,
I would meet him at the park.
We’d walk together hand in hand,
Till it was almost dark.
Well I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head
That didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t
Bad so I had one more for dessert
There’s a picture of us in Baha, California
Eating fish tacos and drinking cold, cold beer
And, man, we had the time of our lives
Yes, that was a very good year
In this California king bed
We’re ten thousand miles apart
I’ll be California wishing on these stars
For you’re heart on me
My California king
California girls were unforgettable,
Daisy dukes, bikinis on top,
Sunkist skin so hot we’ll melt your popsicle…
I wish they ALL could be, you know, California girls.
Girls, girls, girls,
Long legs and burgundy lips,
Girls, girls, girls,
Dancin’ down the Sunset strip,
Girls,girls, girls
Red lips, finger tips…
Hooray for Hollywood!
That screwy, ballyhooey Hollywood!
Where any office boy or young mechanic
Can be a panic, with just a goodlooking pan
Where any barmaid can be a star maid
If she dances with or without a fan
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she’s in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Her name is Rio, and she dances on the sand.
Oh, Rio, Rio, dance across the Rio Grande!
Take back your Samba, ay, your Rumba, ay, your Conga, ayyiyi
I can’t keep movin’, ay, my chassis, ay, any longer, ayyiyi
Now maybe Latins, ay, in their middles, ay, are built stronger, ayyiyi
But all this takin’ to the quakin’ and this makin’ with the shakin’
Leaves me achin’, ole!
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga
I know you can’t control yourself any longer
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga
I know you can’t control yourself any longer
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga
I know you can’t control yourself any longer
Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger
Don’t you fight it 'til you tried it, do that conga beat
So, baby, save the last dance for me…
Last dance
Last chance, for love
Yes, it’s my last chance, for romance, tonight
I need you, by me,
Beside me, to guide me,
To hold me, to scold me,
'Cause when I’m bad
I’m so, so bad
The kids in Bristol are sharp as a pistol
When they do the Bristol Stomp
Really somethin’ when they join in jumpin’
When they do the Bristol Stomp
I’m out here in the filth and squalor,
And all I wanna do is stomp and holler…
(A bit more, perhaps)
Down on the corner, already talking how they gonna cut that take,
I’m out here just trying to earn a dollar,
And, all I wanna do is stomp and holler…
I’m gonna raise a fuss, I’m gonna raise a holler
About a-workin’ all summer just to try to earn a dollar
Every time I call my baby, try to get a date
My boss says, “no dice son, you gotta work late”
Sometimes I wonder what I’m a-gonna do
But there ain’t no cure for the summertime blues
Miniature golf and Hondas in the hills,
When we rode the horse we got some thrills.
Every now and then we hear our song,
We’ve been having fun all summer long.