Thanks to WordMan’s recommendation, I’ve just “discovered” Freddy King, who plays some very, very serious blue guitar. There’s a lot of really great stuff on the “Ultimate Collection” I’m listening to, plus my nomination for the worst song lyrics in the history of American music, Big-Legged Woman (by Leon Russell and Charles Blackwell, who both play on it – as does Carl Radle and Jim Gordon – all of this circa Layla … hmmm…).
Anyway, the song starts off thusly:
*I love the tip, I love the top, I love you better than a hog loves slop
‘Cause you’re a big legged woman, with a short short miniskirt
Promise me darlin’, you’ll never make me feel like dirt *
The Smiths.
Some girls are bigger than others.
Some girls are bigger than others
Some girls are bigger than others
Some girls mothers are bigger than
Other girls mothers
The whole thing is one big steaming pile of shite (and I like Kid Rock); this just sounds like something a 14 year old would write while wasting time in Algebra class-- and yet it was released on an actual CD from an actual record company.
“I can smell a pig from a mile away”– Crikey, good for you, Bob. A lyric so wretched it makes my skin crawl.
Consumed, there was a beautiful white horse I saw in a dream stage
He had a snake the size of a sewer pipe living in his rib cage
And I felt like a priest who was being flambed
You’ve got me requisitioned, blondie
Horse with No Name: There was dirt and rocks and things. Things! Really, there were things? Who could have guessed there could be things. In a desert no less.
That’s not a deep, thoughtful rock ballad? The hell you say! Next you’ll tell me “Every Rose Has It’s Thorn” isn’t a masterful work! (Actually I like both.)
As far as I’m concerned I believe this is the ultimate in bad lyrics. I mean its SO BAD. My boyfriend says it EVERYTIME I ask “are you serious?” I’ve learned to just expect it.
I know there is another verse, but that is pretty much 75% of the song.
Mind you, I’m not complaining - this is a brilliant example of trash rock. Ranks right up there with “Surfin Bird”. But seeing as it was written by Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, who cranked out dozens of Brill Building classics you might have figured they could have come up with a second line.