The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - 'Possum Livin' Skills

Uncle June himself is the soloist in this song, 'Possum Livin' Skills, and he has a voice that isn't what you'd call pretty, but it is assuredly distinctive. With a little bit of a growl, a touch of hoarseness, and an ability to put a lot into the lyrics of a song. But we do advise that listeners follow along with the printed lyrics, as Uncle June's accent combined with his voice timbre can leave some words hard to understand. But it is worth the effort, as Uncle June is the author of them, and they contain Kentucky country wisdom as well as good humor. 

We talked to the leader of The Burgoo Boys, John Henry Flort, and he told us their group was playing the same gig as Uncle June's and they liked their sound, started jamming with them after the gig, and they ended up playing until morning! John Henry said that the group gives them an added dimension besides bluegrass. He also told us that the entire group is the happiest bunch they've ever met. Not a sourpuss in the bunch! He gave us Uncle June's phone number, so we gave him a call.

His good will and humor came across the phone just talking to him, and he had some things to tell us about himself:

Yeah, we been playin' for quite a few years. Played all kinds of events, even had a bar mitzvah scheduled once, but they cancelled! Man, The Burgoo Boys like they been playin' with us fer years! Hit it right off, blended good. They like all the oddball instruments my guys can play. You name it, these guys done played it! We're lookin' forward to playin' with The Boys lots more. They told us we could prolly get a contract from ya'll on our own, but nah, we'll stick with The Boys. They's recorded before, got more experience. Truth be told, me and my boys don't want the bother of it all. We jest wanna play! 'Sides, lot of the guys got other jobs, good payin' one too, hard to come by this day and age in this here part of the country, so this is jest a sideline for 'em. 

Uncle June

As fer myself, hell I'm not only REtired, I'm STILL tired! Don't let my looks fool ya, I'm older than I look! As for the 'Possum Livin' Skills song, I been mullin' that over in my head fer quite a spell. Seen lots of 'possums 'round these parts, and got to thinkin' how they get along so well, some of them in town to boot. 'Possums just adapted to modern times I reckon. The music was a group effort fer sure. Our trombone player, 'Boner' Stewart came up with the trombone parts and brought some of his other 'bone buddies and a tuba blower also to help out. The guy's been playin' the 'bone for longer than I know, and he's real good! Course gotta have the washtub bass and washboard for the bottom of the song! Gotta tell ya, at the recording, I thunk up the last line of the song I'd rather be well fed and alive than purty and dead, on the spot. When I said it at the end, we also spoiled the recording because my guys started crackin' up!  That and when I said the word 'omnivore' the first few takes, the band cracked up too. They didn't kn ow what it meant, jest thought it sounded funny and too hifalutin for a song we was recording! That's the only trouble we got with recording; we have so much fun playin' t'gether, we crack up and cain't keep goin'. Come to a dead stop gigglin' and carryin' on!

Times is hard for a lot of us
So here's some things ya'll can try
We call it 'possum livin' skills
All kind a tricks to get by

'Possum plays dead, but not all the time
Sometimes he just saunters off
Other times he'll hiss like a snake
Sometimes stand his ground get pissed off!

So pick your battles carefully
Sometimes jest puff up say no!
Others raise up your hackles
Others ya just gotta let go

Times is hard for a lot of us
So here's some things ya'll can try
We call it 'possum livin' skills
All kind a tricks to get by

When persimmon trees are in fruit
The 'possum gets his belly full
On a branch, feedin' hisself
Enjoyin' ever sweet mouthful!

Find out what your persimmons are
Oh yeah, seek it and ya'll will find
Find what gives ya satisfaction
Gives ya a sense of peace of mind

Times is hard for a lot of us
So here's some things ya can try
We call it 'possum livin' skills
All kind a tricks to get by

Live on the cheap you'll be surprised
How little can keep ya alive
Not always, but when ya have to
Keep an even keel to survive

We all need money to get by on
But don't be gettin' the notion
To work your ass off wreck your health
To try and make a big fortune

Times is hard for a lot of us
So here's some things ya can try
We call it 'possum livin' skills
All kind a tricks to get by

Don't neglect the dark of night
Ol' 'possum is a night critter
On a clear night go outside
Get a chair be a night sitter

Darker the night, the better
Light can be a distraction
Let your mind go, have a think
Take peace in your inaction

But thar's somethin' ya needs to know
Ol' 'possum is an omnivore
Nice way of sayin' he eats anything...
I wouldn't do that...OH NO!

Times is hard for a lot of us
Been that way through history
Maybe 'possum livin' skills
Can help keep ya happy and free!

'Possum livin' skills
Oh yeah!
'Possum livin' skills
Ugly ol' 'possum
Knows where it's at!
He be ugly, but he don't starve

I'd rather be well fed and alive than purty and dead. 

The Nude Polka Kings - Pigs In A Polka

 The Nude Polka Kings make the rounds of the nudist camps in  the summer, and yes, they perform in the nude like their name implies. They also tour in the winter, but with clothes on for obvious reasons. There's only one nudist Polka Dance Hall in the country, and they run it! It's kind of strange, but not if your a nudist ands love to dance the polka!

This song was suggested by one of our more obscure associates (no names please!). The Polka Kings are more limited in their repertoire, and no matter how clever it is, Pigs In The Polka probably won't make them an  overnight sensation. We here at GR50 Records thought it was clever anyway, if a little offbeat. Pigs in a polka? Who would have ever thought?

I've seen pigs in a blanket, Seen pigs in a sty, 

Seen pigs out in space, heard pigs squeal and cry. 

Seen food made from them, at the butcher shop 

But pigs in a polka? When will it ever stop? 

 

 Pigs in a polka, a sight so odd 

Pigs in a polka, with big fat bods,

 A porcine nightmare, I hope I never see, 

Pigs in a polka, seems so weird to me. 

 

Who ever thought of it, surely makes no sense. 

Nothing against pigs, but I think they're too dense. 

They can't play music, and they sure can't dance. 

So why pigs in a polka, and take a chance! 

 

Pigs in a polka, with rolls of fat! 

Pigs in a polka, ain't where it's at! 

A piggy hell, to haunt eternally, 

Should not be a pigs destiny! 

 

 I hear them oink I hear them squeal. 

Hear them make a fuss, over not a big deal. 

So what good are they, on the dance floor! 

With mamas and their piglets, and a big, fat boar! 

 

Pigs in a polka, they dance before my eyes! 

Pigs in a polka, it wasn't very wise! 

Such a piggy mess, don't step in it! 

 Pigs in a polka, don't care where they shit! 

 

I hear them raise the roof I hear them run everywhere, 

See them roll around in mud, get it caked in their hair

 Imagine dancing, sliding each which ways 

The polka and mazurka and the polonaise! 

 

Pigs in a polka, the grunting hurts my ears! 

Pigs in a polka, fills me with fears! 

Such sloppy things, no manners too! 

 Pigs in a polka, do what pigs do! 

 

 Is it all a rumor, or is it for real? 

Are the pigs of this world really out to steal, 

The polka from us all, I don't know why they would. 

They should for get about it, Stay in the sty where they should! 

 

 Pigs in a polka, they taste mighty good to me! 

Pigs in a polka, that's how it should be! 

I know it's a morbid fate, 

But they belong on my plate! 

 

As Bacon, chops, tenderloin, roast, sausage, anything but in a polka!

 

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - The Hillbilly Tango

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band has branched out into the Argentinean Tango with their song The Hillbilly Tango. How does a bluegrass country band come about to writing and playing a tango? Uncle June himself tells of the genesis of the idea:

The two groups went together and bought an old barn and converted it into a place we can all hang out, rehearse, and come up with ideas. We've got an excellent accordion player that also plays other jug band instruments, and we've been thinking of ideas for songs he can play the accordion on, as he's not played it on a recording yet. His training was on the accordion when he was a kid, and like a lot of accordion students, he made his way through polkas aplenty, as well as some tangoes. One day he was noodling around, and playing snatches of improvised tango tunes. Now The Burgoo Boys original band has a top-notch banjo player, and he began to 'jam' with the accordion, and we liked the sound of it! We put our heads together and come up with the idea for The Hillbilly Tango!

Uncle June takes on the solo vocalizing in the song, and he's become the main vocalist for the group, but they plan on spotlighting some of the other members who have fine voices as well.  Uncle June and John Henry Flort, the two leaders of the combined group, want everyone to have a say in things, and they say so far it's working out great. On the rare occasions when they can't reach agreement, they hold a vote. It's rare for a group that has this many members  The Burgoo Boys have 6 members, Uncle June's group varies from a core group of 5 members to as many as 15 with other players employed for added instruments. 

With the warming of the earth and the passing of the winter
Our hearts start to fill with mirth and our minds are filled with laughter
It has been a long time comin' this renewal time of year
And we'll git the banjo strummin’ and awaken our sleepy ears!
 
Singin' the bluegrass tango, dancin' the steps as we go
No time for blues for hummin' hold on tight let's go!
Hillbilly band plays the tango, ain't so strange, not at all
We like all kinds of music, and sang it in a southern drawl!
 
At first we git some strange looks when we play in a tango beat
But we think Argentinean sound is really funky and neat
So we'll play it when we got the urge whether folks understand or not
With the beat that's so familiar the boys will nail on the spot!
 
Singin' the bluegrass tango the steps begin to flow
In and out with the music hold on tight let's go!
Hillbilly band plays the tango, dang, they can do it so well!
We like all kinds of music the tango weaves its spell
 
Hillbilly meets the tango play it subtle, play it proud
Swing the beat like it should, don't play it too loud
Blend the different styles into a brand new genre
Sync with the sound, maybe reach nirvana
 
Singin' the bluegrass tango, tones played sweet and low
In and out with the music played with pick and bow
Hillbilly band plays the tango, try it with yer partner
No need to pigeonhole or be a musical martyr 

The Nude Polka Kings - Pig Fat

Pigs and the resultant products made from them have been feeding people for a long time. The old

saying goes that the only part of the pig not used is the oink, and that's more true than not. Pigs are one of  the easiest of animals to raise for meat, and they really are not dirty animals. The only reason they wallow in  the mud is to cool off when the weather's hot as they cannot sweat. 

So it stands to reason with all the pluses of raising pigs, they would be part of the cultural history of many different reasons. Jewish and Islamic cultures shun pork as it is considered unclean, but for many people pork remains an important source of protein. Certain cuts and methods of preparation can make it a healthy meat to eat as well. Then there's the subject of this song - pig fat!

Some of the most popular kinds of pork products to eat are sausage and bacon, both highly processed meats that are high in sodium and cholesterol that should be eaten in moderation, if at all. But it's true, there's a lot of flavor in pork fat! 

Their song Pig Fat is a departure for the group, as it really isn't a Polka, if it's even any kind of dance at all is the question. It would be difficult indeed to dance to the song. The group obviously had a good time recording it! 

We’ve heard about pigs in a polka, 

A most disgusting thought. 

Nothing against pigs at all 

Many a pig we have sought.

 

 But not to put in a polka, 

But a very different fate

 Butcher ‘em up 

And put ‘em on a plate! 

 

We like all the parts of a hog 

Nothing that we’d give to the dog

 But many times we’ve had a major spat, 

Over our favorite PIG FAT! 

 

Pig fat around pork chops, 

Makes them juicy and tender. 

Pig fat laced in bacon, 

Succulent and tender 

 

Clogging up our arteries

 And making us obese. 

But it really is quite tasty, 

Give us more if you please! 

 

 Pig fat is king! Pig fat is rich! 

Give us some more, or we will surely bitch!

 Fry our eggs in bacon grease, makes them mighty fine! 

We’ll take it oozing bacon grease, every time! 

 

Dripping down our chins, 

Covering our hands 

Barbecued pork ribs, 

Greasy smoked hams 

 

Pie crust made with lard, 

Is the best in the land 

Pork roast dripping fat

 Is something we can stand! 

 

 Greasy pork chops with thick fat, 

Cooked with kraut and biscuits! 

Soaks up all the deliciousness 

Please make it just for us! 

 

Sausages made with pork, 

Larded with piggie fat. 

Served on a crusty bun 

With mustard is where it's at! 

 

Pork steak fried with onions 

Is a dish fit for royalty 

But don't waste it on them 

Give it instead to ME!

 

 Pig fat is king! Pig fat is rich! 

Give us some more, or we will surely bitch!

 Fry our eggs in bacon grease, makes them mighty fine! 

We’ll take it oozing bacon grease, every time! 

 

 Cholesterol skyrockets, 

Doctor gives us hell 

Wants to start a treatment 

Giving the hard sell 

 

Pills I will surely take, 

Exercise as well, 

But cut out pig fat.... 

Ain't no way in hell! 

 

Pig fat is rich! Pig fat is king! 

Greasy sloppy pig fat, is our special thing!

I will keep on saying, until my dying breath.... 

PIG FAT! 

Pasquale Appassionato - The Pushcart Disaster

 

GR50 Records associates and agents have been busy investigating new talent, and they've found this operatic tenor! He's classically trained, and has a penchant to record off-beat songs, so he fits right in! Pasquale Appassionato is most likely a pseudonym, but we don't care. We look at the song and quality of the recording. An orchestra backs up the singer as he tells a tale of having a vegetable fight with his rival in 1920's New York Little Italy.

Picture in your mind a hot, steamy day in New York City in the 1920's. There are fruit and vegetable peddlers pushing their carts full of good to sell. Pasquale's cart is laden with all kinds of goods, it's been a good year in his garden. He has to sell as much as he can, as the items are dead-ripe and won't last much longer in the heat and humidity. He begins to shout his sales pitch over the other peddlers as he weaves his way through the crowds on the cobblestones of Mulberry Street. He hears his rival 'Big Mike' shouting, but Big Mike is shouting about how Pasquale's melons are bad, and other slurs. People hear, and quit buying anything from Pasquale. He tries lowering prices, but Big Mike has ruined his day. Now he'll have to take the loss from his produce spoiling! He gets close to Big Mike's cart, and Pasquale loses his temper, rams his cart into Big Mike's, and begins throwing his produce at Big Mike and anyone else that gets in the way! But there's one 'customer' that likes Pasquale's wares, and gives his approval!

My name is Pasquale Appassionato,
I grow the vegetable I grow la frutta
Cobblestones on Mulberry street are
baking like oven. Air is thick
Flies, they buzz...And a my produce...
 
My beautiful eggplant, they weep
 in the New York shade!
Bellissima zucchini,  they
sweat like my brow!
Tomato, she is ripe, Garlic she sigh.
La frutta, they get all slimy snotty!
I must push cart on the street
If nobody buys, my heart she
break like stale biscotti!
Mama mia... we are DOOMED!
 
Hey! Look-a here, look-a here, step right up!
Put a dime in my pocket, a pear in you cup!
I got a the garlic, the onion, the bean,
The finest tomato you ever have seen!
Hey, lady! Don’t walk, don't pass me by,
Buy a nice banana for your favorite guy!
Presto, andiamo, look at the price,
Buy it today it's allso nice!
 
But the sun is beating, the street is a mess,
 Pasquale is starting to feel the stress!
Down on the corner stands "Big Mike,"
Selling his cabbages off of a pike!
He yells to the crowd that my melons, they bad!
Making the people of Mulberry mad!
He steal  my business, taking my dime,
Ruining Pasquale's beautiful time!
 
My blood, she is boiling! My face, she is red!
I scream at Big Mike till I wake up the dead!
"You insult my fruit?! You insult my name?!"
I put on the brakes and I get in the game!
I pull back my handles, I line up the wheels,
Ignoring the women and all of their squeals—
I run at his stand like a runaway train,
CRASH! Go the carts in the alleyway lane!
 
"Basta! You no want? I give a it to you anyway!"
Flying tomato! Caught in the ear!
Splat on a the copper! Out  my way, dear!
Head of a lettuce goes spinning in flight,
Turning the corner into a fight!
Carrots so orange, nice and a sweet
I hope they make you slip, trip up you feet!
Cabbage for Big Mike! Hit in the nose!
Hit a him hard,  blood runs and flows!
Slimy and snotty, it's raining a peach,
Samples for everyone, samples for each!
 
You get a garlic! You get a bean!
Maddest banana you ever have seen!
Smash the pushcart! Break the stand!
Welcome to beautiful New York land!
 
...Eh. The horse, he like-a the carrot.

Forgotten Bob - Gotta Gimme Rockabilly!

 Forgotten Bob remains an enigma. He sings his latest song about being all about Rockabilly, and he certainly isn't the Punk Rock musician he used to be. But his loud clothes and piled up hair extends the usual image of a Rockabilly artist, such as Elvis Presley, or Carl Perkins. But as he says in this song, he's ditched all of his gaudy punk jewelry. We've been told by people that knew him back then that he had the works, spikes in his ear, nose rings, chain going from the nose ring to an earring,  and some piercings of some very private areas we'll not mention. He has changed, but he's still out there. His manager texted us and said that Bob's interest in politics has waned, probably take a break from it which is okay by us. We're interested in seeing where he goes next!

Way long ago in the day
Now to me it sounds so silly
I had somethin' diff'rent to say
Playin' loud, screamin' and shrilly

Thank God it was long time ago
Hate stuff played so willy nilly
I growed up and sing better stuff
Now I'm about ROCKABILLY!

Gotta gimme Rock a billy!
Combo of country and rock
That's become my musical role
Sure ain't no Mozart or Bach!

Got rid most of my jewelry
Still got the holes in my face it went
Studs, rings, chains and the works
Sold it to help pay my rent

Can't say I fully repent
Still like my high greasy hair
My clothes are on the wild side
But now I wear underwear (tighty whiteys!)

Gotta gimme Rock a billy!
Combo of country and rock
That's become my musical role
Sure ain't no Mozart or Bach!

Closed the door, ain't goin' back
Ain't playin' nothin' frilly
The past is just what it is
The present is ROCKABILLY!

Gotta gimme Rock a billy!
Combo of country and rock
That's become my musical role
Sure ain't no Mozart or Bach!

Way long ago in the day
Now to me it sounds so silly
I had somethin' diff'rent to say
Playin' loud, screamin' and shrilly

Thank God it was long time ago
Hate stuff played so willy nilly
I growed up and sing better stuff
Now I'm about ROCKABILLY!

Gotta gimme Rock a billy!
Combo of country and rock
That's become my musical role
Sure ain't no Mozart or Bach!

Amos Carter - Slew Foot Stu Boogie

  Amos Carter's latest tells the tale about one of his band members; Stu Milligan, rhythm guitar player.

At least a certain part of Stu's anatomy, mainly his slew feet. Now being slew footed means your toes point out towards the side, the opposite of pigeon toes where the toes point inwards. Stu's had the nickname Slew Foot for a long time, since he was in the Army. He takes it with good humor, and even contributed to the writing of this song, Slew Foot Stu's Boogie. Amos told us Stu came up with the chorus for  the song. Amos and his band keep adding to their original songs they can play at their gigs, as well as doing numerous covers. Amos handles the double bass and lays down a solid bass to the song as usual. 

We've got a member of the band 

Who walks in his own special style 

Toes stickin' out past his ankles 

His feet flomp and stomp down the aisle 

 

His toes always catching on things 

We all call him bunches of names 

Feet like two extended wings 

He was born that way, not to blame 

 

Slew foot Stu, struttin' down the hall 

Like a duck, with turned out feet 

Like Chaplin in a silent flick 

All with a boogie woogie beat 

 

He plays the rhythm guitar well 

Keeps a real steady boogie beat 

Nothin' throws him off you can bet 

Just glad he don't play with his feet! 

 

 Imagine his hands stickin' out 

Like a couple two by four boards 

He'd have hell of a time strummin' 

And couldn't finger no dang chords! 

 

Slew foot Stu, struttin' down the hall 

Like a duck, with turned out feet 

Like Chaplin in a silent flick 

All with a boogie woogie beat 

 

When Stu went into the army 

He was issued boots normal size 

He made his platoon sargent mad 

Kept wearin' out the boot sole sides! 

 

Sargent hollered at him always 

He'd yell at him when marchin' "HALT! 

Point your damn feet straight!" he'd tell him 

Stu would mutter 'It ain't my fault!" 

 

Slew foot Stu, struttin' down the hall 

Like a duck, with turned out feet 

Like Chaplin in a silent flick 

All with a boogie woogie beat 

 

All the ribbin' is in good fun 

Great that Stu's got a real thick hide 

Glad that he laughs, doesn't get mad 

He takes it all well in his stride 

 

But he gets even with some us

Givin' his own kind of abuse 

Those got pigeon toes he tells 'em 

 "Best put some bird food in them shoes!" 

 

Slew foot Stu, struttin' down the hall 

Like a duck, with turned out feet 

Like Chaplin in a silent flick 

All with a boogie woogie beat

El Gato! - Delfina El Tango

Delfina

The latest from our tango band based in Buenos Aires, Argentina! El Gato himself is the soloist in a passionate tango about his love, Delfina, who happens to be a member of the band! As it usually goes with the band, they played for about 30 minutes to warm up, and they got in a groove, sounded great! El Gato joined them and did a sound check. His voice was still rough, but seemed to have a lighter quality here and there. When they got down to it, they recorded numerous takes of the song. El Gato listened, and picked the best one, the one included. Spanish lyrics and English translation:

Delfina El Tango

Delfina, te vi pasar con tu paso de salón
y yo, torpe de verdad, pisé tarde el corazón
Tengo manos de ladrón para el aire, para el hilo
pero al verte, mi canción se me quiebra sin escondite
 
Yo no sé girar contigo me tropiezo al respirar
si me acerco, pierdo el pulso si me alejo, duele más
Y aunque digan que es destino yo te miro y ya está
 
Delfina, mi voz te baila Delfina, mi voz te da
Yo no bailo el tango, amor pero te sé cantar
Delfina, mi voz te baila (Delfina) Delfina, mi voz te da (mi voz te da)
 
Tengo el pulso de un reloj que se cae al despertar
y tu risa, por favor, me enseña a no desafinar
No te ofrezco una esquina ni un compás para los pies
te ofrezco esta herida donde te nombro otra vez
 
Si la pista me perdona yo me quedo en el borde
con la pena en la garganta y tu nombre de norte
Que me vean tan sincero que me oigan temblar
 
Delfina, mi voz te baila Delfina, mi voz te da
Yo no bailo el tango, amor pero te sé cantar
Delfina, mi voz te baila (Delfina) Delfina, mi voz te da (mi voz te da)
 
Si la noche pide una vuelta yo la doy sin caminar
porque en cada nota abierta te me vuelvo a acercar
Y si nunca hay dos cuerpos marcando el mismo lugar
que mi pecho haga el baile que mis labios sepan dar
 
Delfina, mi voz te baila Delfina, mi voz te da
Yo no bailo el tango, amor pero te sé cantar
Delfina, mi voz te baila (Delfina) Delfina, mi voz te da (mi voz te da)
Delfina, quédate aquí en mi forma de cantar

Delfina's Tango

Delfina, I saw you pass by with your ballroom stride
and I—truly clumsy—stepped on my own heart too late
My hands are like a thief's when grasping at air or thread
but when I see you, my song breaks within me, with nowhere to hide
 
I don't know how to spin with you I stumble just to breathe
If I draw near, I lose my pulse If I pull away, it hurts even more
And though they say it's destiny I simply look at you, and that is all
 
Delfina, my voice dances for you Delfina, my voice gives itself to you
I don't dance the tango, love but I know how to sing for you
Delfina, my voice dances for you (Delfina) Delfina, my voice gives itself to you (my voice gives itself)
 
My pulse is like a clock that tumbles down upon waking
and your laughter—oh, please— teaches me how not to sing off-key
I don't offer you a street corner nor a rhythm for your feet
I offer you this wound where I speak your name once again
 
If the dance floor forgives me I'll stay right here on the edge
with sorrow lodged in my throat and your name as my guiding star
Let them see how sincere I am let them hear me tremble
 
Delfina, my voice dances for you Delfina, my voice gives itself to you
I don't dance the tango, love but I know how to sing for you
Delfina, my voice dances for you (Delfina) Delfina, my voice gives itself to you (my voice gives itself)
 
If the night calls for a turn I'll take it without moving my feet
for in every open note I draw close to you once more
And if two bodies never mark out the very same spot
then let my heart perform the dance that my lips know how to give
 
Delfina, my voice dances for you Delfina, my voice gives itself to you
I don't dance the tango, love but I know how to sing for you
Delfina, my... My voice dances for you (Delfina)
 Delfina, my voice gives itself to you (my voice gives itself to you)
Delfina, stay here within the way I sing

 

Forgotten Bob - The Smegma Rock

Forgotten Bob is no fan  of Donald Trump's administration. He pulls no punches in his criticism, and he does it to his usual rock-a-billy beat. But he goes further and criticizes the entire MAGA movement with this song, and equates it to...well...the title of the song tells that tale! If there's one thing we know about Forgotten Bob, you never know what his next offering will be. But it's seldom boring! 

I'm wonderin', what in the  hell,
'Bout all the people still supportin' him
As long as that mindset is to tell,
Chances of improvement are mighty slim...
 
They call themselves the name of futility,
An acronym for they're beliefs, it's MAGA
But in the way of politics, it really should be
What's under the foreskin of a dick...SMEGMA!
 
Since last year when I stated my case,
Laid out my thoughts of Donald Trump
Said he was a nasty turd in our punchbowl,
Gotten worse as he sits on his rump!
 
Murdered civilians, broken up families,
Shifted more money to his rich bastard kind
There is no end to his causing calamities,
And to top it all off, he's losing his mind
 
They call themselves the name of futility,
An acronym for they're beliefs, it's MAGA
But in the way of politics, it really should be
What's under the foreskin of a dick...SMEGMA!
 
His followers worship his wrinkled little cock
And think that'll "affect them all but me"
So busy dancing to the smegma rock
That they really don't want to try and see!
 
Is there any hope that we will survive?
Each day it's getting worse and worse
Will there be a change to keep us alive
Or are we stuck in the gear of reverse?
 
They call themselves the name of futility,
An acronym for they're beliefs, it's MAGA
But in the way of politics, it really should be
What's under the foreskin of a dick...SMEGMA!
 
We're in a goddam war he said wouldn't happen,
His defenders don't give a shit that he lied,
It's true every time his lips start to flappin',
He could not tell the truth if he tried!
 
Ain't true that nothin' can possibly be done!
If Republicans work with Democrats to pass
Working together, fights can be won
But the Elephant has turned into a cowering ass!
 
King Donald, much more radiant than Christ
His followers pray to him and offer thanks
While everything gets so damned overpriced
And the economy continues to tank
 
Trump probably won't ever be held accountable,
 He'll die first. But every one of his opportunistic
Smegma helpers need to be held accountable for
 Their part in the endless cooperation in the corruption
 Of THE TURD IN THE PUNCHBOWL!
With a special nod to his butt boy, toy soldier
WHISKEY PETE! And let the truth contained in
The Epstein files condemn his memory as a
FUCKER OF CHILDREN...FOREVER!

Chuck Wagon Calhoun - Thar's Gold In Them Thar Hills!

 Chuck Wagon Calhoun sings his latest about seeking his fortune by prospecting for gold. He's not
prospected before, but he knows what he needs to do it. A grubstake, pick and shovel...and a mule to do the heavy work. So he finds a prospector that made his fortune and no longer needed his mule named Euripides. So he made a good price to Chuck Wagon, bought him and headed up to the mountains. As with all of Chuck Wagon's endeavors, he loses interest and moved on to his next adventure...after he sells Euripides...Rip as Chuck Wagon calls him! So what adventure and profession awaits our tall tale teller? Stay tuned and find out! 

Howdy!
Ma name’s Chuck Wagon Calhoun.
I’m fixin’ to jack ma jaw at ya ‘bout
The time I deserted the world and went prospectin’…
FER THAT YELLER STUFF WE GO NUTS OVER!!
YEE HAW YA’LL!
 
Had ‘nough of gittin’ my ass shot at and beat
So I heerd ‘bout some dudes stakin’ claims
Way up in the hills findin’ gold nuggets big
So I sold all my stuff and went to do the same
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, say the ol’ timers
Nuggets found as big as a chicken egg
Got me a grub stake and a pick an a shovel
Now all I need’s a mule, then stretch ma legs!
 
Now I done worked with mules afore now.
Git a good one, they help out a lot
Git a bad one, all they do is eat and shit
Best save yer money with a pistol shot…
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, say the ol’ timers
Found me a miner that done struck it rich
Didn’t have no need fer a mule no more
He said he were a good worker…(lying sum a bitch!)
 
Couldn’t believe when he tol’ me the mules name
He called the ol’ mule Euripides
What the hell kind a name fer a mule is that?
Some ol’ Greek dude what wrote tragedies?
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, said the ol’ timer
Best keep callin’him the same name
If ya change it, he prolly won’t answer
He’s a good boy, will mind ye, and tame!
 
So I tried to shorten his name to Rip
I hollered it and to my side he did trip
So we gathered ourselves and got on the trail
And he follered me long side my hip
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, but whar’s it at?
Me and Rip fer a month searched for mother lode
My back was a achin’, my knees were a shakin’!
Went further and further down the road
 
Now it seems the further we traveled
I were carryin’ more of the weight
Ol’ Rip was a lolligaggin’
He best shape up, git goin’ straight!
 
Thar’s gold in them that hills, OH YEAH?
My ass is sorely draggin’
Ol’ Rip wants to sit under the shade tree
His part of the deal shore is flaggin’
 
Come to a head one damned hot sultry day
The sun beatin’ down on my brow
Ol’ Rip sittin’ in the shade of a tree
My patience really snapped somehow
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, ya goddam mule!
No mo gonna give ya a pass
I picked up a big ol’ tree limb
And was fixin’ to beat his ass!
 
He looked at me with his big brown eyes
As I was fixin’ to give him a whallop
Brayed a couple times like he t’were laughin’
And suddenly he grunted and sprang up
 
Thar’s gold in them thar hills, he seemed to say
But it shore ain’t worth all of this trouble
He walked ovah to me, nuzzled ma hand
I dropped the big club on the double
 
[Spoken word]
It took that stubborn old mule to make me see the error of my ways.
What the hell good is gold if you're all cobbled up from findin' it?
So I sat with him in the shade of the tree,
Scratched him under the chin like he liked,
Vowed to quit prospectin', and then told old Rip I thanked him-
Then I sold that goddamn stubborn no good
Consarned lazy fuckin' mule!
And I told the dumbass what bought him he's a good worker!

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - Uncle June Sings Songs Of The Burgoo Boys

 

The Burgoo Boys, are a bluegrass band from Kentucky. Their leader, John Henry Flort, heard Uncle June's Jug Band  when both bands played one New Year's Eve at the same venue. John Henry talked to Uncle June himself, June McShary, and the two groups jammed together and a new group was formed.  With a slightly rough, hoarse, but very musical, Uncle June became the lead singer. Uncle June and his group served to inspire The Burgoo Boys to tighten up their music, expand their creativity, and the groups melded together like they’d been playing together for years. And all of them were proud Kentuckians, and that was reflected in all their songs. The different instruments added by Uncle June’s group has expanded their sound as well.

GR50 Records held meetings with the two leaders on ways we could consolidate the names, even offered to give each group an individual contract. But they told us flat out, they already took a vote from all the musicians, and everyone including themselves, wanted the name of the group to be: The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June’s Jug Band, so that’s what it is!
 
John Henry approached Uncle June with an idea; would Uncle June like to make an album of some of the boys older songs? Hence, this 5 song album, Uncle June Sings! John Henry was no longer satisfied with the original versions of four of the songs. He wanted to add different instrumentation and June’s distinctive voice in hopes to make the songs even better. So while writing new songs, the group also revised those 4 songs. Uncle June had recently written a country ballad Sweet Belle Of Louisville, Kentucky as an anniversary present for his wife on their 30^th wedding anniversary, and all the musicians agreed to include this song as well.
 
1. What The Hell Is Burgoo? - This song was originally written in response to some people commenting on their name and what burgoo was! 
 
2. Roadkill Café - An idea used by many musicians, but we were immediately drawn to the humor of the lyrics and the quality of the musical performance. 
 
3. Sweet Belle Of Louisville, Kentucky - This song was written by Uncle June as a gift for his wife on their 30^th wedding anniversary. It’s a slow, country ballad and shows how Uncle June’s voice, while not being the most attractive musically, can be used for genuine heart-felt emotion. Uncle June told us the story: 

Uncle June McShary

Yeah, this be pretty much how it happened. I'm a country boy, used to git all cleaned up once in a spell an' go into Louisville to the picture show. Usually had my brothers and sisters with me, but this time I was by my own self. Don't 'member why, but anyhow, I never seen the girl before then, and there was somethin' 'bout her took my breath away. I were seventeen, had a few gal friends afore, but none of 'em affected me like this! I was kind a shy back then, still amazed I asked her to sit with me, but I did. Even more amazed she said 'yes'! 

Found out later she was a city girl, so we come from two different lifestyles. Took us a bit to get used to the way each other done things, but it was never a case of one bein' better than the other. Just different. Long story short, we've been together ever since. Never had a break up, had our share of disagreements but we hung in there, got married, had four kids that are all growed now, got some Grandbabies too! Life with her has been great! 

4. When Yer Up To Yer Ass In Alligators - Another humorous original, taken from an old country saying of perseverance among unforeseen circumstances. 
 
5. Feed ‘Em Beans! - That The Burgoo Boys can write lively, toe-tapping, (and profane!) songs is shown in this example. The original is also a great example of the virtuoso musicians in the group, as the tempo is quite brisk. Now add that together with the virtuosity in Uncle June’s group, and you’ve got a quite different interpretation! 

Hambone Riley - Pump Stuck On My Dick

 Hambone Riley shows up with another song that deals with some sort of sexual issue. This time it's
vacuum pump therapy for erectile dysfunction! Hambone's usual style is represented; quiet beginning, then a section more animated , then the chorus which is usually fully animated and loud. 

Figgered I'd give my old dick a little help
Seems my ol' friend been in a little slump
Looked through the catalogues thought I'd try
Them funny lookin' sex aides a peter pump!

Ain't goin' to no sex shop
Too damned embarrassed to go
Ordered one online and waited
Finally came, the mail was so slow
Got a fancy one, electric
Supposed to work a lot more better
Got it out the box to test it
Ended up bein' a fetter!

Pump stuck on my dick!
Got way too much suction!
S'posed to make it big
Cain't get off the rig
Cain't hit the goddam off button!

Pump stuck on my dick!
Runnin' 'round the house in the buff!
My dick's in the brig,
It got too damned big
Situation's gettin' rough!

In a real predicament, and to make it worse
My dick keeps gettin' bigger and won't go down
The pain is gettin' worse, it's turnin' purple too
I'm embarrassed, hurtin' feel like such a clown!

I get a long screwdriver
As I start to moan and cough
Gonna try goin' real slow
To pry the fucker off
But the suction's way too strong
That thing is just there to stay!
As my dick turns shades of purple
Will I make my get away?

Pump stuck on my dick!
Gettin' real light in the head
There's a goddam flood
My dick's gettin' blood
Not goin' to my brain instead

But I think it's slowin' down
The damned things turnin' off!
Cheap batteries,
As quick as ya please
It shuts down, my dick goes soft!

Let that be a lesson to ya'll
Gonna try any of them things
Don't get no powered ones
If ya value yer dick that swings!
Or ya'll might get
A pump stuck on yer dick!

Forgotten Bob - What In The Hell, Kash Patel!

Forgotten Bob continues his onslaught of the Trump Administration and the department leaders he appointed. Kash Patel ,the director of the F.B.I. is the current subject. The song is a classic rocker with a sax player that wails some solos. We called Bob's manager, a guy that goes by the name of Bodacious Marlin that everybody calls BM for short, to see if he could find out the name of the sax player to give him credit on the record. He got in contact with Bob and Bob told him that the guy goes by the name of Slobberin' Blowhard, and that he would rather not be named on the recording, as Slobber doesn't want any publicity because of his past... The more we get involved with Forgotten Bob, the more we think we're getting our collective leg pulled! But what the hell, the music is interesting.  

What in the hell, Kash Patel
Ever thought much about it?
Only reason you got the job
Put yer lips on his ass and kissed it!

A pledge of total loyalty
Of that you all are behooved
Even tried to start some shit
Even before you were approved

Vowed to bring to justice all
The enemies of Dear Donald
Man, that's a hell of a list,
It include Ronald McDonald?

What in the hell, Kash Patel
Ever thought much about it?
Only reason you got the job
Used yer hand to try and stroke it!

Teamed up with Stephen Miller
Over immigration
Be careful who ya hitch up with
You'll be in a situation

This bunch in charge of the place
Are prone to ICE aggression
Any shade darker than whitey
May be subject to deportation

What in the hell, Kash Patel
You say yer a citizen?
Better blow Trump's bugle harder
Arrest has happened to dozens of 'em!

Yer the head of the FBI
Workin' with the Blondie lady
Need to change the name to FBC
To FEDERAL BATSHIT CRAZY!

You better pray Trump don't drop dead
You'll be fucked for a change yerself
Won't nobody trust your ass now
When the next asshole comes off the shelf

Vincenzo Azzurro - Trump's Grandpapa

 

We have a new artist premiering a song here at GR50 Records Vincenzo Azzurro, an Italian -  Canadian who lives in Little Italy in Toronto. Mr. Azzurro is an immigrant to Canada from Italy,  and is a leading figure in the area. He's been on many special committees in Toronto dealing with the Little Italy area as well as the entire city of Toronto. He is owner and partner in many ventures throughout Canada, and is very concerned about the recent comments from President Trump, and decided to write a song that's an expose of Trump's Grandfather, Frederick Trump. Mr. Azzurro is also an accomplished singer as his performance here makes clear. He is a major contributor to classical as well as other genres of music in Canada, and has so much influence he was able to put together the music group that backs him on this interesting recording.

Trump’s Grand Papa was born in a Germany
In the town of Kallstad, Bavaria you see
His Grandpapa always said he was Swedish
He was big liar, like Grandson Donny be

Oh Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump
Come from family
Who lie, cheat, steal and rob
To make all their money
It must be in the genes
Carried on to the presidency!

Nono Trump said that he's not from Germany
Because he went to America to skip the army
Germany conscription, and he too good for it
He was just a barber, for army he wasn’t fit

Oh Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump
Donny had the heel spurs
He couldn’t go into the army
Make me with a sweaty brow
Wonder how he play so much golf
He no had surgery, no complain, never say OW!

Nono Trump end up in Seattle in 18 a 91
In new state in the west of Washing a ton
He open a café and bar, with rooms in the back for ladies
A fancy way to say that Nono ran prostitution!

Oh Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump
Nono made a lots a lots a money
End up in Alaska during gold rush
Made so much money by the crock!
Food, and booze and whores, and land grabs
His grandson a chip off the old block!

Oh Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump
Come from family
Who lie, cheat, steal and rob
To make all their money
It must be in the genes
Carried on to the presidency!
And not to mention his crooked Papa Fred,who taught Donny all he know!

The Nude Polka Kings - The Icicle Polka

  The Nude Polka Kings have been busy playing gigs all over the country as well as their own Polka Hall in Chicago, IL, which they say is the largest nudist polka hall in the country. We'd go one step further, and hazard that it is the only nude polka hall in the country. The band wants to make a confession: The picture used for the title card of naked to the waist men DOES NOT included members of the band. It was a professional picture taken using male models. There is no member of the band that looks remotely like any of the men in the picture, as most of the guys are at least middle aged or older, some with balding heads, most with pot bellies! 

When it’s in the wintertime, with all the wintery storms
Snow piles on the shingles, on the eaves icicles form
They are pointy and so shiny, drip in the sun and sway
Be careful when they fall, that you’re not in the way!
 
The icicle polka, watch them drop so fast
The icicle polka, watch them fall right past
When the sun loosens them from their perch up high
If you look up when they fall, it could take out your eye!
 
When I was a young lad, I heard of an Inuit
During the winter night he threw a hissy fit
He longed to see the sunshine, but couldn't get along
Because the nights up there, are 6 months long!
 
The icicle polka, his happiness suppressed
The icicle polka, he grew so depressed
Stabbed himself with an icicle, went completely nuts
Police ruled it suicide, death by cold cuts!
 
When I was a young lad, we were very poor
We lived very frugally, without any grandeur
We had to make do, when on the ice we'd cavort
Tie icicles on our shoes, and skate for winter sport!
 
The icicle polka, it worked so very well
The icicle polka, we gathered them when they fell
Only trouble was, when they got too very hot
They'd melt into a puddle, right on the spot!
 
We're The Nude Polka Kings, that is very true
Don't play outside in winter, what is wrong with you?
If we would do that, a bad fate to us would be fall
We'd get too cold all over, AND GET BLUE BALLS!
 
The icicle polka, play indoors 'til spring
The icicle polka, don't wanna freeze off our thing
We'll look out the window, at icicles so clear
Play another polka, and have another beer!

The Widow Makers - War! War! Constant War!

 It might seem a little off that a band that calls themselves The Widow Makers writes and performs a song like War! War! Constant War!, and the final lines of  the song show that the band thought of that too, and they address it: 

We call ourselves The Widow Makers, just a heavy metal band you see,

But you sons of bitches are the widow makers.... of reality!

Obvious what the band's take is on the recent developments in the Middle East and the ongoing conflict with the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The band is based in Great Britain, but their song implies that there is always the possibility of war spreading to other countries, including their own. 

In this style of music, the rhythm and music can sometimes seem to be more important than the lyrics. At least to some of our 'old' ears that grew accustomed to different styles of music. We're being diplomatic; plain speaking, the music is so loud that we can't hear or make out the lyrics, and even when we can the meaning of the lyrics can be hard to decipher. The band has taken especial care to have the singer's voice and the lyrics heard, and the meaning of it all is pretty clear!  

Ones who say they're for peace are the ones that bring about war
They've started yet another one, we're not sure what they're fighting for
Over a parcel of land compared to the size of the earth
Is tiny and inconsequential, how much could it be worth?
War, war, constant war!
Wars don't end before the next one begins
Carrying on mankind's deadliest sins
Get the artillery ready, guns big and small
Fight for the peace that we demand for all!
 
Leader of one of the largest countries on earth
Invaded a neighbor, how much is it really worth?
Ego and power, land grabbin' and murder
Been fightin' for years against a brave defender
War! War! Constant war!
No end in sight for the aggressive bear
Who tries to grab and steal, keepin' armies there
While the leader of the U.S. grows green with envy
And helps another war-monger to start more frenzy
 
Leader of what used to be the world's great democracy
Started bombs flying and refused to let anyone see
What was going on with his Israel leader tryst
But he couldn't give the plan cuz it doesn't exist!
War! War! Constant war!
Been only days, but now they all reassure
Only take a few days, maybe a few weeks more
We'll create regime change, like we did in Iraq
We're awesome warriors! We really rock!
 
War! War! Constant war! Beg yer pardon, we seen it all before!
Pat the troops on the back,give them plenty what's for!
If they do come back, fuck them over like you do
Aid war-mongers, be in league with murderers...
Because you are one too!
War, war, constant war!
We call ourselves The Widow Makers, just a heavy metal band you see
But you sons of bitches are the widow makers.... of reality

Pascal Villon - The Last Cáfe (C'est la vie)

 

We at GR50 Records are proud of our international catalog, and we've just added a new one, the Parisian chanson singer, Pascal Villon! Pascal brings hsis resonant and flexible baritone voice to the U.S. for the first time. He is here on tour, and was brought to our attention by one of our associates in Canada because of Pascal's visits to French-speaking areas in the past. He of course sings in French, as well as very understandable English. He has been performing for many years and is quite well known in the Paris music scene. 

He not only is a favorite performer of many, but also composes most of the songs he sings, which makes him fit right in with the rest of our artists who for the most part are also composers of their own material. He has a good feel for the style, and absolutely a good voice for it as well.  

Bonjour...My name is Pascal Villon.
I am here to sing a chanson for all of you
who have had a broken heart.
We French have a term for it.... c’est la vie.
Paris in May... but the rain, it does not care
about the season.
Just like you, mon amour...
you did not care about the clock.
 
I sit alone at a table in the corner,
Watching  the couples walk by on the street.
The waiter brings wine, but it tastes a bit colder,
Without the sweet warmth of you when we meet.
I look at my watch, it is past midnight,
An hour since you walked out the door.
You left a smile in the dim cabaret light,
And a shadow that steps on the floor.
 
Oh, c’est la vie, my beautiful friend,
Every sweet chapter must come to an end.
We danced in the mist by the old Notre Dame,
A temporary fire, without any harm
I raise my glass to the ghost of your face,
Lost in the smoke of this lonely old place.
Adieu, mohn ah-moor... c’est la vie.
 
You told me that writers are dangerous men,
They turn a small kiss into tragedy's art.
You were right, as I pick up my pen,
To measure  pieces of my heavy heart.
Your scarf is still here on the back of a chair,
A whisper of silk and perfume.
A bittersweet ghost in the chilly night air,
Haunting this quiet, dark room.
 
Oh, c’est la vie, my beautiful friend,
Every sweet chapter must come to an end.
We danced in the mist by the old Notre Dame,
A temporary fire, without any harm.
 I raise up my glass to the ghost of your face,
Lost in the smoke of this lonely old place.
Adieu, mohn ah-moor... c’est la vie.
 
No tears in the wine... non, that is too cheap.
Just a quiet goodbye to the secrets we keep.

Gummer Beaudine - Pretty Hunk Of Honky Tonk!

 Gummer Beaudine is one of our raunchier artists, and she's got a solid hard-core group of followers that frequent her gigs at local gin mills.  She's a pretty tough cookie, having lasted through some rough relationships, working in industry for a long time, and playing venues that used to have a curtain of chicken wire between the band and the audience to prevent flying objects from hitting them.  Big Marv, one of our resident producers and mentors, as well as a fine musician himself, took Gummer under his wing early on. Now Big Marv is no stranger to raunchy, but after her first few records he quit mentoring her and producing her songs. He said she didn't need him, she'd figured it all out and was tougher than he was!

That Gummer would write and perform a song about a man she has the hots for is pretty typical. She's aggressive, she can be nasty, and she's talented! We at GR50 Records appreciate her unique perspectives and talents!  

Favorite place for me to play is a gin mill next town over
Got a good clientele and none of ‘em are sober
Lots a drinkin’, dancin’, behavior goin’ too far
But the best thing ‘bout it is the hunk that's tendin’ bar!
 
He’s a handsome son of a gun, sends ma heart to shiver
Ever time I see him my lady parts begin to quiver
Give me the chance, I’d ride him like a bronc!
He’s jest a big old pretty hunk of honky tonk!
 
His name is Jerry and ever time I'm around him
Wanna grab him by his hips and guide it right in
I imagine goin' in his jeans and seein' what I'd find
DAMN, it makes me wanna do the bump and grind!
 
He says he's married already, but I don't give a shit
Don't wanna cause a divorce, jest fuck a little bit
He says he will be true, and that he jest won't
But I sure as hell won't tell no body if'n he don't!
 
He’s a handsome hunk of a man, sends ma heart to shiver
Ever time I see him my lady parts begin to quiver
Give me the chance, I’d ride him like a bronc!
He’s jest a big old pretty hunk of honky tonk!
 
I tol' my current boyfriend to please be aware
I see Jerry I just can’t help but stare
Wanna dance with him, do the spin and twirl
And later take him home and ride him cowgirl!
 
Jerry what a hunk! What a man!
Jerry what a stud! Get him if I can!
Jerry be my lover! Let's let off steam!
Jerry come on over! Oh, I can dream!
 
He’s a handsome hunk of a man, gives ma heart a rush
Ever time I see him my old body starts to flush
Give me the chance, I’d ride him like a bronc!
He’s jest a big old pretty hunk of honky tonk!