The Sunday Song Lyric: Number 43

Today we had an early birthday party for me (the actual date is Friday, but I will be in Austin at the AGDC) and I didn’t get to actually do anything for the Sunday Poem. So I am digging up an old song lyric and posting it.

Number 43

I knew a guy once who wrote a pop song
It was catchy and stupid, about two minutes long
Billboard counted it up to number forty-three
It was as inadequate as mediocre can be

The fella had started with a borrowed guitar
Now he thought he was a three-chord pop star
He knew he lacked chops and a blistering lead
Figured a sense of history was what he’d need

He went back to ol’ Johnson, Diddley and Jelly Roll
To Motown, Memphis, and windy Chicago
And if his guitar sizzled, his words began to fizzle
If he meant love, it wasn’t enough to just say so

So he read Simon and Dylan, Sting and Thompson
Ochs and Seeger, Guthrie and his son
Ended with a fine-tuned set that didn’t rock and roll
He figured he was missing the music’s soul

That’s when he found Elvis, the king of rock and roll
Saw Holly and Morrison go down the hole
Saw Vicious and Valens and Hendrix and Lennon
He was there when Johnny Ace did not come home

He went home to his girl and took her to bed
Went out to the porch and shot out his head
The note said “This is the key to rock and roll:
The music business has no heart and an overdose of soul.”

They played that one song a lot on the radio
If I could whistle it I’m sure it’s one you know
And even though no one’s put out a boxed set so far
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has lacquered his guitar