A cutesy song – from the vaults

Y’all know that I’m slowly databasing all my writing. Today, I opened up the folder labelled Songs and Song Fragments.

I am not a song writer. I did get wildly jealous when MasteryGirl said she’d written a song and sent it off to Kate Cerebrano, and Tina Arena(alas no success). I opened myself up to the possibility of adding songwriter to my list of writerly titles: novelist, memoirist, feature article writer, poet, playwright. I fiddled around with a few things, but honestly, rhyming poetry, even as I’m writing it, makes me squirm.

I did a fine line in limericks in Grade 5 when I discovered them. I wrote 25 in one night, when the homework assignment was to write one. But once the party was over, it was really over. The only time I’m called back to limericks is when I have something particularly narky to say about politics.

Anyway, I can’t think of what else to do with these songs and fragments. I have less than no impetus to rework them.

So here’s the first one, to clear it out of my files.

There’s cats on the table,
and cats on the chair.
There’s cats in the hallway,
the cats are everywhere.

I live a life that no one should live.
I’m a slave to cats, I give and I give.
I hope that they they love me, but I really don’t matter.
And all my friends say I’m as mad as a hatter.

There are kids in the front room,
and kids in my hair.
There’s kids with nintendo,
the kids are everywhere.

I live a life that no one should live.
I’m a slave to my kids, I give and I give.
I hope that they love me, but I really don’t matter.
And all my kids says I’m as mad as a hatter.

There are no men in the bedroom,
and no men in yoga class.
No men in my workplace,
no one’s checking out my arse.

I live a life that no one should live.
No slave to a man, feels like nothing to give.
I hope one will love me, but I really don’t matter,
and all the men think I’m as mad as a hatter.

*****

And here is Wendy Rule, whose song-writing talent is fantastic.