Hillbilly Lotharios & Posh Angels

Elvis died with about five million bucks in the bank and lots of debt. I remember worrying about his finances. Here, the King of Rock'n'Roll lay dead as a doornail, at peace for the first time since 1956, and I fretted about his financial affairs. 

Seems I've always agonized over other folks' money problems. Mine? Not so much.

There have been times when I have had a few bucks squirreled away and times, more times, where I have lived paycheck to paycheck. Keep in mind that I write hillbilly songs. I don't get many paychecks. Oh, I've swept floors, scooped mud, peddled real estate, written newspaper columns, fought pollution, promoted concerts and indulged in other activities that kept the wolf from the door for periods of time between big hit records. Truthfully, I'm a little tired of waiting for a big hit record.

Somehow, I've never figured out this quest for gold, records or otherwise. I collect parrot jokes. Doesn't require any license, wardrobe or degree. I keep rocks. I've built up a lifetime's fantasies and I'm working to indulge every last one. None of them involve money.

I've got the best life in the world. Sometimes I lose a little sleep over your economic well-being.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.

 

Maybe If I Dream It

If I could do it all over, I'd be kinder. Softer. Oh, I suppose I've done alright. I mean I could have done worse. 

I wish I had played more slow songs, more tunes in waltz time.

I should have listened a lot more and talked a lot less. It's not as though I've had a lot of important information to disseminate. There's that one line that I took from Lottie and that's about it. My act, my repertoire. Well, I steal from the best- you've gotta give me that.

Maybe I've learned to love right. Lottie showed me that, too, but I probably took it for granted while she was here. The dogs and the cats took up the slack.

Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.