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We really think it’s best just to listen.
If you miss a few words, they’re probably
words you ought to be missing.
But fine, for you insatiable few, here’s the
whole kitten caboodle. (Kitten not
included.)
1. PEORIA
Parody by Ben Schatz © 2011. Based on “Gloria” by Umberto Tozzi, Giancarlo Bigazzi and
Trevor Veitch. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
Peoria,
I think I’m gonna run now.
You’ve gotta vote for somebody,
And I’m gonna win this somehow.
I’ll share the values of your small town
Just as soon as I can know them.
And if my core beliefs seem new-found,
Look how breezily I’ll show them!
I’m the best choice in November
If you think of what I’ve said,
Not the votes I’ve cast instead.
Choose me, Peoria!
To keep your family well fed
I have to be mean spirited,
For you, Peoria!
Peoria,
Please don’t think of me as galling.
I’ll believe whatever you do
And that’s appealing not appalling.
I would never pander.
It’s just intelligent design.
Choose me, Peoria!
I’m a Constitutional defender
Except the parts I haven’t read.
God bless white guys who are dead.
Choose me, Peoria!
Peoria,
Stop the folks whose thumbs your under,
Powerful illegal aliens,
Prissy queens like Felix Unger
And those evil tax-and-spenders!
Peoria,
It’s a chore to pin my base down.
Social moderates on the main line,
Bible thumpers in the Deep South.
Corporate donors have the money
But I can’t forget the birther loons.
Feel my soul slowly slipping away
But I’m nothing if not opportune.
Peoria, to be a GOP frontrunner
Gotta win the Sarah Palians,
Need to talk like Archie Bunker.
But in the fall you won’t remember
When I’m moderate and well bred
With blue highlights in my red
For ya Peoria!
2. VOTE FOR ME
Lyrics by Ben Schatz; music by Ben Schatz & Jeff Manabat, © 2011. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
Vote For Me, I wasn't born in Kenya.
A concert by Enya is too international for me.
I'll defend ya from Kenya through the millennia
So when ya cast your ballot, make it valid, vote for me.
As for foreign food I've not experienced it.
I wasn't foreign before I was against it.
I'm not a travel-the-globey or visit-Nairobi kinda candidate
Who thinks Hawaii is a state.
I believe in the bible and not in the tarot.
The cards say I won't climb Mount Kilimanjaro.
My campaign slogan: “Yes we can –
Elect someone not African!”
I'm a red-blooded, red-stated, red-meated, red-baited American!
So, vote for me, I wasn't born in Kenya,
Kenya, Armenia, and Slovenia are too far for me.
Foreign affairs and foreigners' airs always demean ya.
It's schizophrenia to be half from Kenya. Vote for me!
Vote for me do not be dumb!
Why? Cause where am I not from?
Kenya, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya, Kenya.
Can ya think of a better reason to vote for me?
3. ELIMINATE THE SCHOOLS
Parody by Irwin Keller, © 2011. Based on “Three Little Maids from School” by Arthur Sullivan
and W.S. Gilbert. Arranged by Irwin Keller.
Eliminate the schools, say we.
Why should we educate for free?
Rip out the desks with girlish glee.
Eliminate the schools.
To simple trades we’ll apprentice some.
Teach all the rest how to use a gun.
We’ll break all the liberal rules when we
Eliminate the schools.
Slashing costs will be such fun.
No more schools means no union.
No one will care once we get it done.
Eliminate the schools.
They’ll learn all they need in a factory
Or as janitorial staff trainees.
What more do you need for the tea party?
Eliminate the schools.
Eliminate the motherfucking –
Teachers be gone; it’s necessary.
Solving our problems budgetary,
Feed kids and cash to the military.
(And penitentiary.)
Eliminate the schools!
Lest the elite think our kids are dumb
Watson my dear, it’s elementary
Why public schools are so damn scary
Too socialist and too health-cary,
(And too seculary.)
Eliminate the schools, tra-la-la.
Yes, eliminate the schools!
4. T’AINT IT LOVE?
Parody by Ben Schatz, © 2011. Based on “Tainted Love” by Ed Cobb. Arranged by Irwin Keller.
Sometimes I wish that I could
Run away from every
Thing that’s gay
So that I can run from a part of me.
The lives they share
Should be more dull,
It’s just not fair.
With all their hot delights
What do I have left if they have their rights?
There’s too much fun for you.
I suffer. You should suffer too.
A plaintive love we’re given,
If you feel bad you know you’re livin’.
Embrace your fears and just be miserable!
Restrain your love.
Like John Boehner does.
Now I know you say you were
Born this way. In my view
It’s porn this way (well at least
It is in my fantasies).
If sodomites have rights
Well then my life really bites.
I can’t accept what you deserve
‘Cause happiness is graded on a curve.
If I run from you.
I can run from me too.
Unless your fruit’s forbidden,
I can’t repress my own sex kitten.
Fake your feelings, take me, take me, No!
Feign at love.
Pain is love.
Don’t touch me please
Unless you’re sure nobody sees.
Gotta keep it on the down low.
Or it would destroy the world I know.
Catch me ‘cause I’ve fainted, love.
I just can’t contain it, love.
Tie me up and tame me, love.
The hell with my campaign – it’s love!
Come on whip and chain me, love.
Come Michelle Bachmain me, love.
Come and Herman Cain me love.
Shameless love! Pain is love!
5. YAHWEH
Parody by Ben Schatz, © 2011. Based on “My Way” by Claude François, Jacque Revaux and
Paul Anka. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
My friends, the end is clear.
Our land was founded by the Puritans.
Not Streisand, Richard Gere,
Or Hollywood libs,
Like slut Jane Curtin,
Who only want to lead us
On the Sodom and Gomorrah way.
But if you vote for me
I’ll vote with Yahweh.
Women’s libbers, mainstream news
And other sins I will not mention.
But the worst sin we can do
Is to decrease our tax exemptions.
A land that’s without guns
Can’t live the Bible and the Torah way.
That’s why we should live by
The laws of Yahweh.
Enforce them all!
Don’t plant mixed seeds!
Don’t let your cattle interbreed!
Don’t fabrics mix or tattoos get.
You curse your dad? Get put to death!
Don’t ever shave. Don’t fuck your slaves.
We’ll obey Yahweh!
What’s this? I see dismay
And not delight upon your faces.
Perhaps I should downplay
These views in close, contested races.
But all Americans
Who love God in a not Allah-way.
Should know: a vote for me’s
A vote for Yahweh.
God wrote the Bible, every word.
I’ll choose the parts that I’ve preferred.
The Constitution’s also great
(Except the part ‘bout Church and State).
And that explains why my campaign’s
Endorsed by Yahweh!
6. SOUTH OF THE BORDER
Lyrics by Ben Schatz; music by Ben Schatz & Irwin Keller © 2011. Arranged by Irwin Keller.
I need a vacation but where should I go?
Down south of the border to Old Mexico.
My bags are all packed
And I'm ready to roam
And relax and act
Like I would never at home…
South of the Border
I'll sip drinks by the sea.
I'll bring my visa to buy margaritas
From sweet señoritas
With no visa to visit me.
I just speak inglés, but that's no disgrace.
They know their place. To my face
They'll embrace both my money and me.
I love Mexican food
I love Mexican cheer,
I love Mexican dudes
Who drink Mexican beer.
Clean Mexican air,
Señoritas sincere.
I love Mexicans there
but not Mexicans here.
North of the Border
If my señorita should be,
I would deport her back south of the border
For I'm a supporter of strong law and order,
You see.
'Cause those who manage
To speak only Spanish
Should vanish or be banished
Because they act clannishly.
I love Mexican tots
Seeking "Merican funds,
Selling Mexican pot
With American guns.
Love American throngs,
On the Mexican sand
Singing Mexican songs
By American bands.
See I can sing:
Ay ay ay. (La Bamba!)
Ay ay ay ay. (Guantanamera)
Ay ay, ay (La Cucarachel!)
I love Mexicans when they are:
South of the Border.
That's where they should be
It's quite talismanic, my panic's Hispanic
And most of the time manifests
Messianically.
It's quite talismanic, my panic's Hispanic
Promoting my promise to act puritanically.
South of the border!
7. EVERYONE’S COMING UP NOSES
Parody by Ben Schatz, © 2011. Based on “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” by Jules Styne and
Stephen Sondheim. Arranged by Spencer Brown.
You’ve got a dream to be virgin and true, baby.
Well you can come too, baby.
You can easily be chaste and be easily chased too, baby.
You can swell and gyrate
And occasionally masturbate.
Virgin pledge? Keep your vow.
Honey, everyone’s coming up noses!
Sense of smell ain’t so great.
Get lucky and yet still be pure and new!
Honey, everyone’s coming up noses so no
buts for you!
Geared for sex: nasal tracts.
You’ve got nothing to do but relax.
Find your bliss in a snout.
Honey, everyone’s coming up noses!
You can do it
Till it’s legally banned.
You’ll come through it.
If you can’t spell proboscis then screw it!
Out-and-inning
Doesn’t fit in your ear. (We’ll still try.)
It’s not sinning.
And it’s more slimming than rimming!
Bladder up.
Fight your fright.
Will a septum accept him?
Damn right!
You’re a whole factory
Of fun olfactory.
No thrilling like nostrilling
Till you’re through.
Bang a beak. It delights.
Just assign us a sinus that’s tight.
For a spell on your date
Honey, everyone’s coming up noses – it fills the bill.
Everyone’s coming up something – why not a schnoz?
No more aversions to urgins that virgins got.
Everyone’s coming up noses and knows it but you!
8. TOUCHA TOUCH ME (TSA SECURITY)
Parody by Ben Schatz, © 2010. Nased on “Toucha Touch Me” by Richard O’Brien. Arranged by
Spencer Brown.
I put everything in my airport bin.
I’d only ever frisked before.
Now for no cost I’m getting
TSA heavy petting.
But if you touch me there I’ll
Need a wedding.
Now I’m feeling a-glow.
Don’t make me go.
I’ve faced a stud and I want more!
I’ll come back; I’m persistent.
Don’t need to fly long distance.
You’ve got to itch my scratch.
Bring two assistants.
Toucha toucha toucha touch me.
I’ll catch the flight at 8:30.
Grill me, drill me, cop a feel me.
It’s a feature of my flight.
I’m about to explode
So change your color code
When you feel me up and feel me down.
The airport’s new attraction:
Customer satisfaction.
These extra friendly skies
Give covert action!
Toucha toucha toucha touch me.
I love when you’re flirty.
Grill me, drill me, you can bill me
As a feature of the flight.
Toucha toucha toucha touch me.
My F-bombs are dirty.
Grill me, drill me, hold still me
Before they seat ya on the flight.
9. TSK TSK
Lyrics by Ben Schatz; music by Ben Schatz & Jeff Manabat, © 2011. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
Let us tell the sad story of someone who ran
As a modulating, moderate Republican.
When the GOP picked on his pals, the gays,
Skillfully he'd scold and scoff and softly say,
"Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk, it's not nice to show prejudice.
Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk. so we shouldn't drop a bomb on San Francisk.
Though no issue's more substantial
than to be a hawk financial, hey –
human rights are an important asterisk. Tsk tsk."
He supports gun control and abortion rights
And he loves watching “Glee” every Tuesday night.
He adores his undocumented Mexican cook
But it's wise to prioritize his pocketbook.
"Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk. I truly do feel bad 'bout this.
Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk. I feel your pain, but make it brisk.
It really is a pity that my party treats you shitty
But I have investments that I can't risk. Tsk tsk.”
“I am the very model of a moderate Republican.
The right-to-lifing, bible-toting homophobes I'm up agin'.
But when my small fraternity votes with them for eternity
the consequences are you see you choose them when you vote for me.
When my small sorority puts them in the majority
The consequences are you see you choose them when you vote for me."
Nothing else is odder than a cannon-fodder moderate Republican.
He convened a caucus in their name but he was the only lonely one who came.
"Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk. My Quixotic campaign just can’t persist.
Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk. I can't get Grover Norquist pissed.
Although I am respected I could never get elected
'Cause it turns out I don't exist.
Tsk, tsk. Tsk, tsk.
Yes it turns out I don't exist.”
10. SATAN BABY
Parody by Ben Schatz; © 2010. Based on “Santa Baby” by Joan Javits and Philip Springer.
Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
Satan Baby, be an angel, dear.
Are you free for me?
It’s awful being a good girl
Satan Baby,
So come and mortal sin me tonight
I wanna have Satan’s baby,
In exchange a TV show would do.
(Or two.)
Just bring a camera crew here,
Satan Baby,
To film me your babies in me tonight.
Think of all the fame I’ve missed.
I stink from all the butts that I have kissed.
Next year I won’t need to be good
If I give birth to little 666.
“Satan’s Baby” is a hit Bravo slot!
Need your tot. Not plot.
Hey, you made Octomom hot.
Satan Baby,
So come Kardashian me tonight.
(Satan Baby,
Tou know you’ll be hot in Hades!)
Satan Baby,
There’s one more thing I really do need:
Your seed.
And with a demon half-breed
I’ll make money.
So Beelzebabe kaching me tonight.
(Satan’s baby gets her on TV.)
I’ll bear your child like Rosemary.
What has Mia Farrow got over me?
Why’d she trust her man with her baby?
Cuz he ended up married to Soon Yi.
Now she was…
Satan’s Baby. I forgot to mention
One little thing: I sing.
And I do better alone.
Satan Baby.
So free me from the Kinseys tonight.
(We need another Kinsey alright.)
Hurry. Tonight.
11. LOVE CHILD (POLITICIAN EDITION)
Parody by Ben Schatz, © 2011. Based on “Love Child” by Berry Gordy, Deke Richards, Pam
Sawyer, R. Dean Taylor and Frank Wilson. Arranged by Irwin Keller.
Sometimes I played with free love.
But it wasn’t GOP love.
Single gals can’t be elected
If kids are detected.
Love child! Never meant to be.
Love child! Bad headlines on TV.
Love child! I’m pro-family.
Love child! So take this brat from me!
Startled one wife
When she caught us naked in their
30,000 square foot tenement slum.
He took it wrong when I said,
“Hey senator, run John run.”
I got some gelt from his campaign.
They were so afraid that I’d reveal our
baby’s name!
With all the bucks that I was makin’
From campaign work I’d been fakin’
I only ended up failin’
My child with Bristol Palin.
Love child! I should stick with sodomy.
Love child! With Gingrich I had three.
Love child! Let me get this off my chest.
Love child! Strom Thurmond was the best.
I scrubbed the pool
In a worn, torn shmateh
That Maria threw out.
It wasn’t my fault
That a Kennedy married
A muscle-bound kraut.
He was such a simple thing,
But I can’t say “no” to someone
So well built in me.
Michelle Bachmann’s raising.
Love child! Sometimes can be good.
They aid campaigns
When used as they should.
Love child! So misunderstood.
They’re great as bait
For votes for motherhood.
Don’t think my campaign needs you.
Let your half siblings feed you.
And what makes it most amazing:
They’re the kids
But I’ll almost love you.
All 23 of you.
I’ll almost love you.
Like good Repubs do!
12. BP IS CREEPY
Lyrics by Ben Schatz; music by Ben Schatz and Irwin Keller, © 2010.Arranged by Irwin Keller.
We’ve been told to stay in line.
Just drill, baby drill.
Everything will be just fine.
No spill, baby, no spill.
I had faith in the GOP. They said:
Trust in God and his pal BP.
All of a sudden I find I’m paying
The bill, paying the bill.
BP is creepy. At the wheel asleepy.
BP is creepy. Promises don’t keepy.
We’ve been told that all we need is to
Drill, baby, drill.
The Lord loves freedom for corporate greed.
Just chill, baby, chill.
Rules are for fools. They’re intimidation.
Now we need a lack o’ lack o’ regulation.
‘Cause all that freedom just left us free to
Kill, baby, kill.
BP is creepy. Drilling way too deeply.
BP is creepy. Stupid mother-[bleepy].
All’s well that ends well
If you buy your friends well.
All’s well that ends well
With oil wells that spoil well.
BP is creepy. Building on the cheapy.
BP is creepy. They can suck my—
Look at the time!
BP is creepy. Don’t just stand there weepy.
BP is creepy. Stop following like sheepy.
Who’s got the time to regulate BP
When we’re willy-nilly filling up our SUVs?
If you think the problem’s just
Goldman-Sachs and BP
There’s a walrus I can sell you
In the Caribbean Sea!
We’ve had our fill, baby our fill.
You’re making us ill,
Making us ill.
Life ain’t a drill,
Baby, no drill.
This ain’t a drill,
Baby, no drill!
13. I WILL WATCH YOUTUBE
Parody by Ben Schatz © 2011. Based on “Every Breath You Take” by Sting. Arranged by Jeff
Manabat.
Every breath you take,
And every move you make,
Every bond you break,
Every step you take,
Can be on YouTube.
Every single day, every act risqué,
Much to your dismay,
Though it’s free, you’ll pay.
You’ll be on YouTube.
The whole world can see
Your debauchery.
Now your poor heart aches
Cause there are no re-takes.
Asleep or awake, every smile opaque,
Every pose beefcake you cannot unmake
Once it’s on YouTube.
Tyrants’ brutal acts can’t be erased.
Birthers or atheists get to make their case.
Still just once I sit on someone’s face,
Now it’s being shown on Nancy Grace.
Ill-repute me, someone shoot me please!
Immorality for immortality.
What you filmed for flakes
You cannot forsake.
When you’re real or fake,
When you’re on the make
Every shot you take you can never shake.
People watch YouTube.
People killed in quakes,
Hippo-eating snakes,
I must watch YouTube.
Rants by George Takei,
Spongebob Squarepants – gay!
Wiki exposés,
Crying Tammy Fayes.
Sermons by a sheikh,
Cats play pattycake.
Bieber’s ankle break,
Gaga wearing steak.
Tahrir Square displays,
Dancing Tom Delay.
Men in lingerie,
Miss Teen USA.
One-time acts of play never go away,
It’s your resumé, and you have no say.
Now I’ve got the shakes.
Help for Heaven’s sakes!
Lord I need a break, but I’m still awake.
Every gaffe you make,
Every huge mistake,
Could be your big break.
You could have a stake:
Once you’re on YouTube.
14. SIKH TO SHEIKH
Parody by Ben Schatz © 2011. Based on “Cheek to Cheek” by Irving Berlin. Arranged by Irwin
Keller. In “Electile Dysfunction: The Kinsey Sicks for President,” Rachel announces her intent to
become a suicide bomber so she can get laid. How is that? She learned on Fox News that if she
becomes a suicide bomber, she’ll go to heaven and get 72 virgins…
Heaven, hymen heaven.
I will have six dozen virgins mild and meek.
Though my faith does not
Provide the grounds I seek.
That’s a detail when you are a fanatique.
For the Hindus, Muslims,
Christians, Jews and Sikhs.
For each god is best and each one is unique.
And we praise him
With the havoc that we wreak.
Heavens, separate heavens.
Each tribe has its own religion.
Each god has his own mystique.
Each god somehow favors his tribe’s
interests geopolitique.
While they watch their friends slow-dancing
Sikh to Sheik.
Take a chance with me
And just disarm about you
With no alarm about you.
Would that no be truly…
So we find fault with fanatics.
We define them blind and weak.
But it’s fine when the fanatic is
Our rebbe, pope or sheikh.
Heaven, in my heaven,
No one picks a fight because of fits of pique.
Pick your Sabbath,
It falls each day of the week.
Take a stance with me.
God wraps his arms about you.
If you do harm about you,
He’ll gladly send you to…
Heaven. If there’s a heaven, it’s where
Communists and Kabbalists can speak
And jihadists join in jokes with Jesus freaks
And we’ll go out together dancing,
Jew and Kraut together dancing,
We’ll go out together dancing Sikh to Sheik.
15. SELL THE POOR
Lyrics by Ben Schatz © 2011. Music by Ben Schatz & Jeff Manabat. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
With an ever-growing deficit,
The nation is in deep, deep shit.
But a modest proposal can give us a lift.
And it’s far more effective
Than Jonathan Swift’s.
Sell the poor. Sell the poor.
It’s the death of the debt to be sure.
Nothing really would be lost
But welfare checks and bus exhaust
And heaping, hiking healthcare costs
Sell the poor.
It’s the cure for the poor
Whom we’ve paid Medicaid to insure.
Lift a lung, extract a kidney,
Sell to Seoul, Shanghai or Sydney,
Marry off the rest to Britney,
Sell the poor.
Wouldn’t it be really great
To sell them to some Sultanate
And auction of their welfare state
And get this song to modulate?
Indenture has allure,
If they’re trained they can be furniture.
No need to feed their greedy brats
Or vet their votes for Democrats
But who will we send to combat?
Let’s hear more lyrics by Ben Schatz!
Sell the poor (but not all)
Sell the poor (most, not all)
Except the ones who face the guns in our
wars.
Keep the ones who in the trenches toil
Or clean our homes or plant our soil.
The others we can trade for oil.
(Sell everyone who pays rent
Or needs to count every cent,
Give more the affluent,
Fuck the 99%!)
Sell the poor!
16. BEDROOM ANTS
Parody by Ben Schatz © 2010. Based on “Bad Romance” by Nadir Khayat and Stefani
Germanotta, “Telephone” by Stefani Germanotta, Rodney Jerkins, LaShawn Daniels, Lazonate
Franklin and Beyoncé Knowle, “Paparazzi” by Stefani Germanotta and Rob Fusari and “Just
Dance” by Stefani Germanott, RedOne and Akon. Arranged by Jeff Manabat.
Rachel and Trampolina, always snacking in bed, don’t mind the vermin they attract. Trixie and
Winnie are horrified, but are accused by the other two of not appreciating wildlife.
Oh oh oh, clawed by your bedroom ants.
Oh oh oh, gnawed by your bedroom ants.
Rah rah ah-ah-ah.
Roma roma-ma
Gaga ooh-la-la.: Want no bedroom ants.
Rah rah ah-ah-ah.
Roma roma-ma
Gaga ooh-la-la.: Fond of bedroom ants.
My bed is snuggly
With crackers and cheese.
So I’m not lonesome
Thanks to rodents and fleas.
Don’t want your bugs.
Or snails and slugs.
Don’t want no drama
The crush of demands
What’s wrong with playing in bed
With anthills and sand?
Don’t want your bugs
Without strong drugs.
You know that I love you
But in bed I won’t feed you.
You’ll make them sad, my bedroom ants.
It’s sexy rubbing
If you don’t mind the stench
Won’t you please give me a second chance?
Three days of scrubbing
And I still can’t unclench
Oh my God, what’s in my
underpants?
Stop crawling, stop crawling
I can’t even think anymore.
I left my can of Raid
On the damn floor.
Ick ick ick. Start cortizoning me.
I’m dizzy. I’m queasy.
Ick ick ick. Stop microphoning me.
Girls our biggest fans will run away
Because you’re blotchy from your
Cockaroachies.
If we do a Lady Gaga parody
They’ll watch me – look!
Gaga’s itchy crotchy.
Girls just remember that it’s alright, alright
They’re just ants. (Organized they say.)
Just ants. (I’ll be their queen someday.)
Just ants. (Can the uncles stay?)
I want your bugs
‘Cause I want some more friends.
Ask why, I shrug,
It’s just how this song ends.
Why don’t we sing a few lyrics in French?
Let’s try it now but it doesn’t make sense.
I still wanna speak French.
You don’t even speak French!
Want your bedroom ants!
Hey it’s a living
We don’t need to make sense
You and me could write about houseplants.
Hey they’re not laughing,
And I peed my Depends
You and me should sing in better bands.
Oh oh oh. Brought up for Bedouin romance.
Oh oh oh . Cut to a badminton dance.
Rah rah ah-ah-ah.
Roma roma-ma
Gaga ooh-la-la.
End with bedroom ants.