BC: Frazier Ghetto Libretto Songs in the Key of H Flat Big Yellow House Millrat Blues Firecrackers Mayday Again Red Suit Thief January Blues Whiskey Island Hobo Train Black Swamp Blues Red Rock Blues Sedona Song Dead Husband Dave Five Green Beans St. Rosie's of the Riverwood Big Bang Blues Paradise Blues Lakeland County Sucker for a Blonde One More Stupid Love Song
FC: Frazier Ghetto Libretto | Songs in the Key of H Flat | David A. Hollis
1: "Frazier Ghetto Libretto" is a compilation of events, pictures, ideas, and lyrics from a lifetime playing the role of photojournalist, musician, photographer, and songwriter. This first volume, "Songs in the Key of H Flat", is, hopefully, just the beginning. Thanks for you interest. Enjoy. | All photos copyright 2001-2012 by David A. Hollis Music /Lyrics copyright 1991-2012 by David A. Hollis ASCAP Kitty's Broke Publishing Rocky River, Oh/New York, NY All Rights Reserved dh vizaud Enterprises 2013
2: Frazier Ghetto Libretto Songs in the Key of H Flat | "As Above , so below"
3: We are all connected by time, place, and experience. From the iridescent blue orb careening through the Milky Way to a minute speck of green in old Rockport Township.... From twenty-five thousand TV news stories to the digital discovery of the Little Horse Vortex in Sedona, Az..... From a Sears acoustic six string to What 4, Smegtones, and BFD; to over 400 songs written about all of this. These are my sounds and vision, from my head and my heart. | Special Thanks to: Dan Medsker, Jane Hirz, Jim Oakar, Ted Pikturna, Walter Grossman, Michael Gee, the Cleveland Browns, and Ma and Pa
4: Big Yellow House I want to live in a Big Yellow House, Out in the country with pigs and with cows, Big summer porches and oak trees for shade, An icy cold glass of fresh lemonade. The kitchen perspires, smelling of bread, Breezes blow curtains 'cross big double beds, Attics and cellars, hidden home places, Albums of people's unrecognized faces. I want to live in a Big Yellow House, No lily white for me and my spouse, A fire in winter to warm frozen hands, We'll lie around listening to forgotten bands. Neighbors and friends will always drop by, For steamy hot coffee and mom's apple pie, Long late discussions 'bout family and drugs, And through it all sleeps my bulldog named Muggs. Timber and nails, concrete and glass, Windows and doorways into the past; Intimate moments, happy and warm, Illusions of comfort out of the storm. I'd like to die in that Big Yellow House, Lie in the parlor while mourners carouse. Dream mortal dreams of good times and fun, Of games that we played in midsummer sun. So, throw down a toast in honor of me; Then have another, then maybe three. To the man of the castle who's meek as a mouse, This boy who grew up in the Big Yellow House.
5: Mill Rat Blues Red hot steel ribbons, you know, I ain't no liar, Watch out where you're steppin', catch you pants on fire. White hat to the skidman, "Haul'em up the hill," Past soakin' pits and first aid kits, that's life here in the mill. Mill Rat on a mission, Mill Rat to the core, Mill Rats made the steel, but the mills ain't here no more. Coke plant dirty, deadly, that smell like sweat does flow, Some leave when they want, some wait till told to go. They chained the rusted gates up, been several years ago, Converted men of steel back into iron ore. Steel mill or factory, no matter what you do; Walk away from yesterday wearin' Mill Rat blue. Somebody always wonders, wherever they are now, Standin' in a line somewhere, wondrin' why and how. Wishin' they could all go back, the way it was back then; While Mill Rats in a mill somewhere, wonder if and when. Mill Rat on a mission, Mill Rat to the core, Mill Rats made the steel, but the mills ain't there no more.
6: Firecrackers Twelve Noon, and it's Springtime, the tear gas smells just right; Green grass and the green grass, we really feel right. Up there on the hillside, they set rules for the game; Did you hear a gunshot? Who could be to blame? Firecracker firecracker, the world's watching now, Try to keep your head down, think about the Tao. Firecracker firecracker, they all sound the same; Wrong place, wrong time, did you know their names. Firecracker firecracker, we just thought it was Firecracker, firecracker.... You've all heard of Hamlet, Hey, look up at the clock, Water on a wash rag, find the perfect rock. Chain link fence is ringing, lead that must have missed; Targets on our tee shirts, faces on their lists. Little by little, we all die some each day; Fore gone conclusion, those four days in May. So many years later, who's left to remember? Attitudes can change from May on to December. Firecracker firecracker, we just thought it was, Firecracker firecracker..... | Photo from Bettmann Stock Images
7: Mayday Again Twenty thousand partisans in their brick enclaves, Conscripts off to slaughter, Rhodes scholars diggin' graves; Fatigues fatigued on Main Street, was it Celtics or the Knicks? Tear gas and a bonfire, an incendiary mix. Election Day, three nights away; preachin' law and order, Flyin' sorties overhead, and sealin' off the borders. Drench this towel with water, it protects you from the gas, Stay back in the shadows, watch out for broken glass. We'll rally on the Commons, and ring the Victory Bell, I hear the sirens coming, is that smoke I smell? We come from bricks and mortar, their symbol -tindered wood By midnight it was ashes, gone but not for good... They came out to fight truckers, and that's just what they did, On that May Day weekend, they came out to kill kids. They trained to protect Freedom, by enforcing martial law; At Noon plus thirteen seconds, that's what the world saw. Not all the kids tagged "Victim" got buried in the ground; Four decades plus, time has passed, some are still around. Fear finds us forgetful, our past doomed to repeat, A generation severed, by denial, greed, deceit. Forgiveness isn't granted, to those who might prevail, Fools consort with evil, lost in the details. | Photo by John Filo
8: Red Suit Thief Burglars came on Christmas Eve Took the toys beneath the tree. Through the window, in a sled Saw the Fat Man dressed in red. Left no prints the cops could lift, Ate the cookies, stole the gifts. Left no tracks out in the snow, Santa robbed my bungalow. Santa Claus, what makes you tick? Joined that gang with old St. Nick. Copper heard your name and cursed, "It's Christmas Spirit at it's worst!" This year on the 24th, We plan to booby trap the doors. Guard dogs just might do the trick, Or cookies laced with arsenic. | Bust some windows, break some doors, While each Mom and Daddy snores. Fill the stockings, check for holes; Load'em with two pounds of coal. Fat Boy's home became a boat; Shrinking Ice Cap made it float. Caste of Elves ain't so merry, Getting gouged on Fat Boy's Ferry. Santa's in a legal mess Indicted by the IRS. Kringle, Kris will have to flee 10 Billion warrants for B and E. Santa said upon conviction, Told the judge, "It was addiction, "Even though I've caused such grief "I'll always be the Red Suit Thief."
9: January Blues Tinsel in the carpet, brown tree in the yard, Garland on the doorstep, tree lights all in shards, Credit line exceeded, send your thank you cards; Matching Elvis paintings, which one do we discard? Blizzard hits tomorrow, headache won't go 'way. The snow we had since Thursday is turning dirty gray. Yule log sits in ashes,long since burned away; Keep hoping that the in-laws won't stay another day. Lookin' for a break, try and find the clues, Everybody I know, got the January Blues. Lookin' down the tunnel, try and see the light; In a Pullman they call daytime, on a train ride into night. Lookin' for your mittens, try and find your shoes; Everybody I know, got the January Blues Cabin fever captive in Winter's long charade, Someone named Alberta sent this clipper to invade. Water pipes are frozen, power's out I'm 'fraid; Expecting nasty weather, minus sixty centigrade.
10: Whiskey Island Hobo Train Chug on down that North Ridge line, Bring that whiskey in on time, "Engineer, don't pay no heed; Hurry now, put on some speed. Hammer down to Hooverville, Freight car open, drink your fill, Whiskey Island Hobo Train, Highball down those tracks of pain. Ridin' on that Nickel Plate, Close the door, sit on this crate. Crack that bottle, pass it 'round; Let no whiskey touch the ground. Drink to hobos near and far Livin' in this rail car, Whiskey Island Hobo Train, Smugglin' in Canadian. Whiskey make you old and gray, Train will come for you someday. Hulett man turned into dust On Whiskey Island, whiskey lust. Train is comin', gotta leave, See you here next New Year's Eve, Life won't ever be the same, On Whiskey Island, what a shame... Whiskey Island Hobo Train, Whiskey Island Hobo Train, Whiskey Island Hobo Train.
11: Black Swamp Blues Leavin' my Tree City, off to Motor Town, Drivin' Corduroy Road, then it all came down. Skeeters big as mayflies, risin' from the ooze', Stuck outside Sandusky with the Black Swamp Blues. | Could've seen the Islands, off Catawba shores, Should've saved my money from the killing floor. I'm strugglin' 'cross these flatlands, wearin' muddy shoes, The Ice Age road to Oregon, gimme the Black Swamp Blues. | Gave up on the highway, hopped the westbound train; Someone near Lime City, put me in these chains. If you get my message, tellin' of bad news, I'm in the Glasstown Prison, with these Black Swamp Blues. Black Swamp Blues, I got the Black Swamp Blues; Black Swamp Blues, you gimme the Black Swamp Blues
12: Red Rock Blues Someone left the water on for fifty million years, Red Man on the crimson rock cries fifty million tears. Oak Creek tributaries, like canyons in your mind, Great Spirit in the vortex makes the water wind. Portals in the balance, four elements conspire, Water cleaves old Mother Earth, with help from wind and fire, Hananki left the door ajar, the ancient teleporter, Tuned into a Red Rock channel beamed across the border. Spirit wind, velvet thunder, Crawlin' up from six feet under. Oak Creek Canyon, Red Rock vista, Screaming eagles, stop and listen. Sun baked valley trails along the quiet creek, Conjure up the twin rainbows in prizmed white mystique. Reflections from the Rustbelt, dripping on the walk, Trickling down the streambed where the javelinas walk.
13: Sedona Song Blame it on old cottonmouth, high up Sedona's ridge, Down through Oak Creek Canyon, under Slide Rock bridge, Creekside past the Junipine, mirabilis and the pinon, Cruisin' down Route 89, to Uptown's New Age minions. Two hundred, count'em vorti, from Little Horse to Bell, Ascending from the Airport to Montezuma's Well, Watch your step at Cow Pies, at West Fork's slippery moss; Caution at the cairn field, down by Cathedral Cross. High above the Cockscomb, to Panorama Point, Anointed at the Chapel, and that Telacquepaque joint, Riding Boynton Canyon cross the valley to Brin's Mesa, Underneath this boiling sun make you loco en cabesa. Slogging through the hot red dust, mesquite, and prickley pear, A thousand feet of granite up to the Zeta lair; Iron, quartz, and sandstone, prana power strong, The Lunar Wind is calling sweet Sedona's Song. Pleiades or Sirian, Sinaloa artifacts, Teleport illusions above the ley line tracks, Spinal tapping shivers, blame it on the Qi. And as above, so below; it shall always be.
14: Dead Husband Dave I slept up in the attic, a well known warning sign, I came home late for dinner, and she laid it on the line. The one too well done ribeye stirred up a Federal case, Just like the greasy French fries, that she threw right in my face. She made good threats to give him a butcher's clean close shave. So, what ever happened to her Dead Husband Dave. She said that he was livin', up North, somewhere, some cave, But, what ever happened to her Dead Husband Dave. They never did find anything, no body, and no grave, Hey, what ever happened to her Dead Husband Dave. They say he sent a picture, not sure when it was taken, She tried to put her size 10 in an 8 if not mistaken, She tore it up in anger,I thought that she was jokin' But when I sent it back, she wanted my legs broken. The movie should have ended before the nine year run. It's probably a good thing, that neither owned a gun. She always had the anger, and she always held a grudge; It's good to know a lawyer, who says he knows the Judge...
15: Five Green Beans Last night came and went, she said that she was leavin', I don't know, and I don't care, it sounded like "Get even!" Could have been the mailman, or Fred from Fuller Brush' Could have been most anyone, she left in such a rush. So I went into the kitchen, where she did most of her bitchin' 'Bout my whorin', and my snorin', 'bot my drinkin', so I'm thinkin' And then I realize, as the plot begins to thickin', I got Five Green Beans and a burnt piece of chicken. Woke up late this morning when the neighbor telephoned, "She left town with my brother for a place near Yellowstone," Her side, it wasn't slept in, her note said, "I despise..." Then listed everything she could see with her green eyes. So, I stumble out of bed, find an ice bag for my head, All the lyin' and the cryin', all the tellin' and the yellin', Open up the Frigidaire, be cool, not panic stricken, To Five Green Beans and moldy piece of chicken. The actor and the actress, all part of one big show, Get used to slammin' doors, that's how it always goes, The thing about advice, while it's often freely given, You gotta pay a price, for how it is you're livin'. So try to understand, when the woman leaves the man, It's boring, unadoring, is it cricket, go and stick it. 'Cause you're never gonna heal, and the taste will make you sicken, From your Five Green Beans and that rancid piece of chicken.
16: St. Rosie's of the Riverwood On any given Sunday, service starts at one, With Pastor Pete presiding, Sister Kelly playin' Nun, We'll feast on loaves and fishes, Kaiser buns and Bass, Brother Dave and Friar Bill sanctifyin' Mass. Prayin' for the Monsters, Browns, and Cavaliers; Celebrate futility with our two dollar beers. We'd minister to Indians, but Bragen's curse is good, Communion at St. Rosie's of the Riverwood. There's bats up in the belfry, so ring out all the bells, Remember that all our friends will meet us down in Hell. Confessin' in the phone booth with Apostle John, No Vatican shenanigans, no preachin' Al-Anon. Grab your music missal, page three twenty two Join in with the choir to sing the Deacon Blues. Our sermon from the pulpit, "A Champ Misunderstood," Baptized at St. Rosie's of the Riverwood. If you're ever on that North Ridge line,Sunday, headed west, In need of sanctuary, you can always be my guest. On Riverside in Rockport, the holy spirits flow, Sacramental patrons in the parish of St. Rose. No televangel fakirs at vespers happy hour, No aging cloistered convent, that begs to be deflowered, No thigh high low cut habits, Little Sisters of the Poor, No spillin' Bloody Marys on the vestry floor. Last call on the chalice, a shot, then knock on wood, The ritual of St. Rosie's of the Riverwood.
17: Big Bang Blues Can't do Mayans, Planet X, No Nibiru, or end times sects, Solar flares, cosmis plasma, Nothing that won't cure my asthma. Mass extinction, viral threats, Narco terror, global debt, H1N1, flying carp, The ol' Grim Reaper's playin' harp. Transit Venus, Moon eclipse, Chrystal matrix, polar flips, Power vortex, flux plane grids, Atlantis found, Indigo kids, Altered genome, DNA; Hordes of locusts on the way, Art thou brother, big and bold, Atlas shrugged, then lost his hold. Asteroids with bad intentions, Theocrats, not to mention, Joseph Kony, Kim Jung Ill, Drones above with graves to fill. New diseases, tainted drugs, Epidemics, deadly bugs, Pigs and chickens, rhinovirus, Calamities most undesirous. Come December, we'll remember, How the Earth became an ember. New volcanoes, record droughts, Wild fires, no way out. Climate change, now hold on Sally, Everywhere's tornado alley, Through the portal, exit right; Beyond the veil into the light.
18: Paradise Blues Ghettos full of tourists, buy trinkets made of trash, "D'store comes recommended, make deal if you pay cash. Try some island cooking, de canine taste like hash. Tour ancient walled in cities, where terrorists still clash." Paradise, Paradise, throw out your wing tip shoes, Pay the price, pay the price, "What you got to lose?" Play it nice, sing it twice, Paradise B...lues. Roll again, you loser, roll your bloodshot eyes; Grandma's pension money, in lady luck's disguise. Winnin's never easy, losin's never wise; And suddenly it's gone before you realize. "Welcome to our island, you are in good stead. There is no crime in dis town with bars on every shed. Dat beach, it is no good, don b'leve all that you read. Da solved the tourist murders, but the perpetrator fled." Everything's a taxi, at least 10 bucks a head. Linoleum for floorboards, tires showin' threads. "Da wipers do not function, da smear would only spread; It never rains in Paradise,..except today." he said. "If you need Ba' service, the pepsi cost 3 dollah. The pork entree is savory, da kitchen praises Allah. Observe the angry Hindu, as they serve veal marsala. The tour guide says Bermuda, it looks like Guatemala. '
19: Lakeland County Let's all drive to Lakeland County, There's a hundred dollar bounty, For all hunters you can stuff, Up on the mantle in the buff. These are days that I'll remember, In the windy, cold November, On those mornings wet and dark, Shooting hunters in the park. Be it bear, deer, or rabbit, How I love this awful habit, Game'll have a damn good reason, Now that hunter is in season. All you home boys from the farm Want the right to bear your arms. Dang, I'm sure nobody cares, It's alright to arm the bears. Be it buck or doe or duck, The former hunted are in luck. Pull the bow down from the rafters, It's Homo Sapiens that were after. Let us load the double barrel, Then they'll know that they're in peril. Get out quick, watch the door hinge, Targets all dress up in or-ange. In defense of furry bunnies, On the front page, in the funnies, This astounding rabbit's feat Is Joe Bob gutted, dressed, and neat.
20: Sucker for a Blonde It's something I was born with, something DNA. Something doctors noticed and filled out Form 10 A. You'll find it in the records since modern time has dawned, Every lowly caveman is a sucker for a blonde. It might be Mom's home cookin', or maybe in the genes, It might be from a bottle, or sunshine by all means. But even as a schoolboy, a hormone soaked young fella My head was always turned by a follicle of yella.. I like'em long and leggy, or something in between; Put'em on a pedestal, a princess or a queen. I know it's simple color, the look goes far beyond, A schoolboy crush, a brain of mush, a Sucker for a Blonde. I've grown a little older, and wiser, nonetheless; Some things, they never change, to you I must confess, Sittin' on a barstool, not too drunk to respond, The scent of smoke and roses on a lanky tanktopped blonde. It's one thing when you're 20, at 30 it depends, At 40 you go crazy, at 50 it transcends. You look across the bar, and reflected far beyond; The same old realization you're a Sucker for a Blonde. Ev'ry Okie knows that sooner, and most of us know later, When St. Peter pulls our number, we go to something greater. Drivin' down the freeway, right when you least expect it, There's something in your eye, and you're tryin' to correct it. It's a woman in a sports car, you feel just like Bond. The eye is quicker than the hand, distracted by the blonde. Some joker in a semi, slackjawed in his leer, Crosses left of center, and St. Peter pulls you clear.... The city's built of crystal, the lakes are diamond clean. Cherubs in Valhalla try to keep it clean. I always believed the angels, and now I'll be doggoned; I'm sittin' here in Heaven, surrounded by these blondes.
21: One More Stupid Love Song One More Stupid Love Song, foolish yet sublime, One more silly promise of mountains I would climb, One More Stupid Love Song, one more worn out rhyme, One more way to warn you, 'til the end of time... Spring invades the meadow, there's something in the air, You know that it's been done before, and still you couldn't care. One more mating ritual, one more fancy you can share, Pray for happy endings, who knows how or when or where. Clock hands on the upswing, twelve steps down the aisle, Bend over, it's the honeymoon, on a Caribbean isle, Bridegroom at the threshold of his mortgaged domicile, The marriage made in Heaven sure can cramp your style. Hope still springs eternal, but your hair is turning gray. She can't be more than 20, and she casts a glance your way. One More Stupid Love Song, you hear the music play. Older, maybe wiser, maybe sometime, not today.