Heimilisritið - 01.06.1946, Page 25

J J Sönglagatextar f
BEAT ME DADDY, EIGHT TO
THE BAR
In a dinky honky tonky village in Texas,
There’s a guy who plays the best piano hy
far,
He can play piano any way that you Iike it,
But the style he likes the best is eight to
the bar,
When he plays it’s a hall,
He’s the daddy of thera all.
The people gather around when he gets on
the stand,
Then when he plays he gets a hand,
The rhythm he beats puts the cats in a
trance,
Nobody there bothers to dance,
But when he jams with the bass and guitar,
They holler, „Aw, beat me, daddy, eight to
the bar“.
A phnk, a plank, a plink plank plink plank
plunkin’ on the keys,
A riff, a raff, a riff raff riff raff riffin’ out
with ease,
And wlien he jams with the bass and guitar,
They holÍer, „Aw, beat me, daddy, eight to
the bar“.
SUNDAY, MONDAY OR ALWAYS
Won’t you tell me when we will meet again
Sunday, Monday or abvays?
If you’re satisfied, I’ll be at your side,
Sunday, Monday or always
No need to tell me now what makes the
world go ’round
When at the sight of you my heart begins
to pound and pound
And what am I to do,
Can’t I be with you,
Sunday, Mondav or always?
THEY’RE EITHER TOO YOUNG
OR TOO OLD
They’re either too young or too old,
They’re either too grey or to grassy green
The pickin’s are poor and the crop is iean
What’s good is in the army,
What's left will never harm me.
They’re eithver too old or too young,
So darling you’ll never get stung
Tomorrow I'Il go hiking with that eagle
scout unless
I get a eall from grandpa for a snappy
game of chess
I’m finding it easy to stay good as gold
They’re eithver too young or too old.
HOW SWEET YOU ARE
How sweet you are, how sweet you are,
IIow dear your tenderly smiling face.
Thru days all bitter and gray and grim.
Thru nights when even stars are dim;
.How sweet to know my heart can glow
From just the warmth of our first embrace
The world's a lovelier world by far
t\I)en I remember, how sweet you are.
GOING MY WAY
This road leads to Rainbowville,
Going my way?
Up ahead is Bluebird Hill,
Going my way?
Just pack a basket full of wishes and off
you start
With Sunday morning in your heart.
’Round the bend you’Il see a sign, „Dream-
ers’ Highway"
Happiness is down the line, going my way?
The smiles you’ll gather will look well on
you,
Oh, I hope you’re going my way, too.
HEIMILISRITIÐ
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