When I was 17, I had a really great smile
all of my teeth were white & none of them foul
ruby red lips to drive the men wild
My breath was cherry sweet tart cause I's an underage child
Til i was thirty five.
But now the days grow short, I'm in a desert full of years
My teeth a memory, of dental pain and fears
One by one they were pulled in a bayou of tears
Now I've nothing but gums and gallons of wine
Cause Now I'm fifty nine
My eyes have grown dim, with cataract clouds
hand me my cane, you don't have to yell, I know I'm too loud
I'd put in my plate and cook my food long
couldn't eat nothin raw, cause life's a very sad song
Sit on my couch waiting, my only friend is the bong,
It was a very sad song
Of course you realize this is a riff on "A very Good Year." My favorite version was by Chicago's own, the late great, Mr. Lou Rawls.
Mr. Lou Rawls, introduced me to rap back in the early 60's. With his talk of the Windy City, the Hawk, the Eagle flies on Friday, the process (the patent leather stylin process) the player and the game.
There are many fine versions of this song, Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra immediately come to mind. Think I'll saunter over to UTube and see who else cut a cover, maybe Sam Cooke, Otis Redding or Dinah Washington.
I'll bring back a link or an embed.
all of my teeth were white & none of them foul
ruby red lips to drive the men wild
My breath was cherry sweet tart cause I's an underage child
Til i was thirty five.
But now the days grow short, I'm in a desert full of years
My teeth a memory, of dental pain and fears
One by one they were pulled in a bayou of tears
Now I've nothing but gums and gallons of wine
Cause Now I'm fifty nine
My eyes have grown dim, with cataract clouds
hand me my cane, you don't have to yell, I know I'm too loud
I'd put in my plate and cook my food long
couldn't eat nothin raw, cause life's a very sad song
Sit on my couch waiting, my only friend is the bong,
It was a very sad song
Of course you realize this is a riff on "A very Good Year." My favorite version was by Chicago's own, the late great, Mr. Lou Rawls.
Mr. Lou Rawls, introduced me to rap back in the early 60's. With his talk of the Windy City, the Hawk, the Eagle flies on Friday, the process (the patent leather stylin process) the player and the game.
There are many fine versions of this song, Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra immediately come to mind. Think I'll saunter over to UTube and see who else cut a cover, maybe Sam Cooke, Otis Redding or Dinah Washington.
I'll bring back a link or an embed.
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