MY LOUSY WORLD: Punch the clock with these songs

Posted 2/16/16

Trust me kids, by the end of this column, you’ll know exactly what Sylvia’s Mother was telling the desperate young man over the pay phone before the operator said, “40 cents more, for the next three minutes.”

Not only were the lyrics from …

This item is available in full to subscribers.

Please log in to continue

E-mail
Password
Log in

MY LOUSY WORLD: Punch the clock with these songs

Posted

My love affair with old song lyrics knows no bounds. My empathy for those too young to have ever tapped toes to a Guess Who beat is limitless. If I can help in some small way, then as Simon and Garfunkel offered, “Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down.”

Trust me kids, by the end of this column, you’ll know exactly what Sylvia’s Mother was telling the desperate young man over the pay phone before the operator said, “40 cents more, for the next three minutes.”

Not only were the lyrics from my day infectious and wildly-creative, but many were even career-specific. Other than the country genre, which caters to cowboys, today’s music isn’t vocation-oriented. There’s no “Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be roofers.”  

But the oldies had plenty of tunes for physicians. My 21-year-old, up-and-coming, singer/songwriter friend, Garrett Randolph is a rare breed. Even though 40 years and political views separate us, when I realized he loved the old Tom Jones smash, “Delilah,” I knew we weren’t that different, he and I.

But I regress. When Garrett listed Jackson Browne as one of his inspirations, I immediately began singing “Doctor My Eyes … tell me what is wrong; was I unwise, to have kept them open for so long.” (When I realized I wasn’t just singing it in my head, I nearly got thrown out of the coffee shop.)

That gem came out the year I graduated, 1972, but it was far from the only song that singled out the medical profession. Tommy Roe sought medical help when his affections for a dream girl produced alarming physical symptoms. “I finally got to talk to you and told you just exactly how I felt. Then I held you close to me and kissed you and my heart began to melt. Girl you’ve got control of me, cause I’m so dizzy I can’t see; I need to call a doctor for some help. Dizzy; I’m so dizzy my head is spinning …”

It was often cardiologists that were needed. Billy Ray Cyrus had it bad. “But don’t tell my heart, my achy-breaky heart I just don’t think he’d understand. ‘Cause if you tell my heart, my achy-breaky heart; he might blow up and kill this man.”

A severe enough heartbreak literally can lead to massive coronary blockage and ultimate death. You might recall one well-documented case when “He stopped loving her today; they placed a wreath upon his door. Soon they’ll carry him away; he stopped loving her today.”  

Decades ago, a soulful Sinéad O’Connor lamented in her heartbreaking style, “I went to the doctor and guess what he told me? He said ‘Girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do’, but he’s a fool. ‘Cause nothing compares …to youuu.”

But physicians aren’t the only professionals that were serenaded. Even pastry chefs weren’t ignored. The greatest genre called “Bubble Gum” groups like the Archies sang, “Ah Sugar; honey, honey; you are my candy girl, and you got me wanting you.” Nobody sang it better than the Ohio Express with “Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I got love in my tummy …” My beloved Monkees paid tribute to Mary, who had “lips like, strawberry pie.”

There were many shout-outs to the transportation industry. Peter, Paul & Mary were “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” The Pips took a “Midnight Train to Georgia,” and those Monkees were monkeying around on “The Last Train to Clarksville.” My all-time favorite though was a depressed country boy named Doug Stone who lamented, “I’d be better off in a pine box, on a slow train down to Georgia, or the grey walls of a prison doing time. I think I’d rather die and go to hell and face the devil, than to lie here, with you and him, together on my mind.” A general practitioner wouldn’t do; Doug desperately needed a shrink.

And now the answer you were promised. What was Sylvia’s Mother telling the young man before the operator rudely interrupted? She said, “Sylvia’s hurrying; she’s catching the nine o’clock train; take your umbrella, ‘cause Sylvia it’s starting to rain …”

All he wanted was to tell Sylvia goodbye, but her mother resisted, saying, “Sylvia’s marrying a fellow down Galveston way,” and “Please don’t say nothing, to make her start crying and stay …”

She ended it with “Thank you for calling, and son, won’t you call back again,” before the pesky operator demanded again, “40 cents more.” There were no calling cards back then, so Sylvia was gone and Dr. Hook’s heart was broken. And now you know … the rest of the story.

Comments