Move Over Bob....

There's an artform out there in the world, a kind of cross between poetry and song.

I stumbled into the artform by waking up and doing my day the way anybody else does their day. I'm trying to learn chords on a ukulele (who knew a Bb could torture one?)and it is easier to learn something I wrote than to learn a Bob Marley classic "Old Pirates yes they rob I..."

Anyhoo, I wrote this poem song last night- it just sort of "became" what it is.




Yer Little Fella

C
Come on over here son,
G
Bring your little fella
C
Is he stayin’ outta trouble?
G
Is he minding his own business?
C
Is he tucked away safely,
G
where he’s not any trouble?
C
Did your Mama tell you all about
Am
Gonorrhea?
C
I bet they’re driving you crazy
G
Now that the weather’s turned
C
all them spindly legs
G
Leading on up to heaven
C
Come on over here son,
G
Bring your little fella
C
Let me tell you all about
G
the trouble he’ll get into
C
Did your Mama explain about prophylactics?
G
Them avoiding pregnancy tactics?
C
Did your Mama teach you manners?
G
How to be a gentleman?
C
Come on over here son,
G
You and your little fella
C
I’ve only got the one hour
G
To tell you not to succumb
C
To the pressures of the moment
G
Don’t do regretful things
C
Because of the pressures of the moment
G
And the things your Mama wants
C
You might have to drop out of college
G
You might have to drive a truck
C
You might have to build fences
G
Just like your daddy has to do
C
Come on over here son,
G
bring your little fella
C
He looks just like his Mama
G
And a little bit like me
C
Hold him up to the glass
G
Where I can see he’s such a spunky lass
C
Is his Mama nice to you?
G
Does she want more than you give?
C
Come on over here son,
G
Don’t you be afraid
C
Your Mama told you all about me
G
Didn’t she?
C
Did she tell you I’m much nicer
G
When I’m a person
C
Than when I’m a number
G
In a place like what you see?
C
Come on over here son,
G
bring your little fella
C
I think it’s nice
G
You named him after me…