You won’t believe me; you’ll think it strange, when I try to explain how I recall, the songs of our boomer youth, and earlier, then later. . .The thread started when somebody mentioned “Beatles to Eagles.” Now there’s a phrase! But first, let’s whip up a proper introduction, borrowing a few phrases from back in days gone by, because the Times they were a changing. . . after four thousand holes in Hiroshima and Cuba and the wall in Berlin and Dallas and where were you when. . .?
It was eighty years ago today, they say, Muddy Waters taught the bands to play; they been goin in and outa style but they’re guaranteed to raise a smile. . . or a teardrop. So may I introduce to you the one and only baby boomers youthful hearts club, wondering where have all the flowers gone, as we go frolicking in the silver mists of a land called Hanalei.
Or maybe we’ll just Rock around the clock; if we’re lucky, find someone who will Love me tender, love me true, oh ,but get a load a that girl. . . Good golly miss molly. . . She was just seventeen, you know what I mean; sounds good. . .. let’s ferry ‘cross the Mersey; for awhile, or maybe go westward, young one. Let’s go surfin’ now, guys. ya gotta love them California girls; yeah, we’re Feelin’ glad all over; but stay out of that house in New Orleans they call the rising sun;
Oh, but baby. love, How sweet it is to be loved by you. . . we’re standing in the shadows of love, gettin’ ready for heartaches to come. We’re hoping this is not the eve of destruction but then, watch out . . .one pill makes you larger; one pill makes you small. and speaking of. . . where have all the flowers gone? Unchain my heart, takin’ the midnight train to Georgia. So I find a boxcar; so I take my guitar , sad refrain. . . rainy night in Georgia. maybe better to be Ridin’ on the City of New Orleans.
because you can’t hop a jet plane like you can a freight train, best be on my way in the early morning rain; big 707 set to go; she’ll be flying o’er my home in about three hours time, they say it never rains in California. . . oh, but now I’m California dreamin’. . . rows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air. But if you’re going to San Francisco you’d better wear some flowers in your hair. Oh but. . . where have all the flowers gone? I heard it through the grapevine; stickin’ to My Guy like a stamp to a letter; I wish it would rain. Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud: I am lonely. Blue, blue windows behind the stars, big birds flying across the sky, throwing shadows on our eyes.
Four dead in Ohio.
I can see by your coat, my friend, you’re from the other side. . . even so, deep in Dixie where I was born, same place as Uncle Remus. . .
. . . a man met a woman, down in Alabama; she was a backwoods girl but she sure was realistic. She say boy without a doubt, you better get your message straight now; you could die down here. Surrender your crown on this blood-stained ground. It’s a slow train coming. There’s a train a’comin’. . . pickin’ up passengers coast to coast. You don’t need no ticket; just get on board, cuz. . . You do know, dontcha, that He’s got plans of His own to set up His throne, when He returns. At an unknown hour he’ll set up his throne, when He returns. Shake, rattle and roll, y’all, cuz the times they are still yet a-changin’. Selah. Land sakes alive, y’all! You need a Word to tell you which way the wind blows. . .