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Dave’s Gone By Song (8/19/2005): HELLHOLE SUBMARINE

SONG-Hellhole Submarine-08-2005 Download

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HELLHOLE SUBMARINE

(Note: Sung to the melody of Paul McCartney and John Lennon’s “Yellow Submarine”)

In the dacha where I was born
lived a man who sailed the sea
When I turned 14 years old
they gagged and bound and shanghaied me

So we sailed into the sun
Till we crashed into a reef
Now we sink beneath the waves
And we sing in pain and grief:
 We all die on a stupid submarine
stupid submarine
stupid submarine
We all die on this stupid submarine
stupid submarine
stupid submarine

All our friends from other ships
Won’t get close to us till it’s too late
While the whales and fish and sea
We completely contaminate

We all die on a stupid submarine
stupid submarine
stupid submarine
We all die on this stupid submarine
stupid submarine
stupid submarine

Oxygen is running out
and our food supply is far from clean
As the crew begins to pray:
(sounds of labored breathing)

We all die on a stupid submarine
stupid submarine
stupid submarine

So we blub inside the sub
which I wish I had never seen
We’re turning blue, we’re peeing green
in this hellhole submarine
(spoken) Submarine! (coughs)

We all die on this hellhole submarine
hellhole submarine
stupid submarine
Yes, we all die on a hellhole submarine
hellhole submarine
hellhole submarine
(spoken) Just the men!
We all die on this hellhole submarine
hellhole submarine…

********************************

NOTES & BACKSTORY:
[June 2023] This song was created for my radio show, Dave’s Gone By, as part of the recurring News Gone By segment, which poked fun at news and current events. Here’s how I introduced the song on its Aug. 11, 2005 debut. Note that the story is true, the song stuff, not so much:

“Harrowing news from Russia this week where a mini-submarine became trapped in metal debris at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. The sub got tangled in the wires of an underwater monitoring station, leaving only a few days’ supply of oxygen available to the crew—an eerie echo of the Kursk disaster. Russian authorities kept the accident secret the first day. Then they tried to rescue the sub themselves the next day. They accepted help from England and other nations only as time began running out. Rear Admiral Vladimir Pepelyayev told Russian reporters that the crew were keeping their spirits up as best they could: playing cards, telling stories. In fact, before they were miraculously rescued, they actually were able to transmit, by Morse Code, the words and music to a song one of the sailors wrote about the situation. I happen to have it here. In tribute to that brave and saved crew of the AS-28, I’m gonna sing it now. I think it shows their resilience, their spunk, and their hilarious misery.”

Dave’s Gone By Song (11/4/2004): MAKIN’ POOPIES

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A song celebrating the joys of relief.

Segment originally aired Nov. 4, 2004, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

Please Note: Segments extracted from “Dave’s Gone By” may have music and other elements removed for timing and media re-posting considerations. For the full show with all elements, please visit the audio of the complete original broadcast: Full Episode.

All content (c)2004 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

MAKIN’ POOPIES

by David Lefkowitz

Another seat, another bowl
Another log comes out my hole
It’s really pleasin’ when I’m a-squeezin’
And makin’ poopies.

I pull my shorts below my rump
I read the sports and take a dump
It’s brown and shiny straight from the hiney
That’s makin’ poopies.

Sometimes I sit for ages waiting so patiently.
Though my intestine rages, nuggets are all I see.

I eat some bran and have some juice
Run to the can and shake it loose
I wipe my tushie when it gets mooshy
From makin’ poopies.

My little rectum, it does the job
Be it a hot dog or just a blob
It’s such a passion to feel the splashin’
Of makin’ poopies.

I grit my teeth and hug my gut
while underneath I hear a “splut”
It always happens with all my crappin’s
I’m makin’ poopies.

One day my gut got swollen,
I chalked it up to gas.
But when I touched my colon,
Blood shot out of my ass.

Now I feel woe, and it’s a drag
`cause when I go, it’s in a bag
I miss the odors of all the floaters
When making poopies.

So listen here, I recommend
That once a year, check your rear end.
Just find a docto’ to do a procto
He’ll stick a finga up your gazinga
You’ll scream and yelp, but it may help
in makin’ poopies.

Dave’s Gone By Song (6/24/2004): LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO MY HEAD

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ZZSong-DontMesswithUs

With Muslim terrorists now staging decapitations for video, let’s imagine a song to go with them.

Segment originally aired June 24, 2004, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

All content (c)2004 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

LOOK WHAT THEY DONE TO MY HEAD, MA

by David Lefkowitz

Look what they done to my head, ma.
Look what they done to my head.
Well, they hacked it off with a giant sword
And left me lying dead, ma.
Look what they done to my head.

They put my face on the `net.
They put my face on the `net.
We’ve changed regimes, but it don’t seem to make no difference yet, ma.
They put my face on the `net.

They made me read the Koran, man.
They made me read the Koran.
But I crossed my fingers and bit my tongue
And cursed the name Allah, ma,
So now I’m buried in dung.

Oh, look what they done to my head, ma.
Look what they done to my head.
Well, they tied it up in a plastic bag before I was even dead, ma.
Look what they done to my head.

One days these Muslims will pay, ma
One day these Arabs will pay.
They’ll pay in blood and burning flesh for what they done today, ma.
One day these scumbags will pay.

Oh, look what they done to your son, ma.
Look what they done to your son.
Well, they slaughtered me and martyred me
And now my song is done, ma
Look what they done: now I’m gone.

Dave’s Gone By Song (1/19/2004): THE RECTUM OF EDMUND FITZGERALD

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ZZSong-RectumofEdmund A ballad not-so-loosely based on the Mepham High School sodomy trial on Long Island.

Song aired Jan. 19, 2004, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

All content (c)2004 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

THE RECTUM OF EDMUND FITZGERALD

by David Lefkowitz

The story did play on News 12 and Newsday
and it filled up the old Nassau Herald
How kids from the school were so vicious and cruel
To the rectum of Edmund Fitzgerald.

The town of Bellmore lies upon the South Shore
On an affluent part of Long Island
They pay a high tax just to keep out the blacks
In the hopes that their kids won’t grow violent.

Now, one such young boy was his mom’s pride and joy
Such a virile and athletic laddie
Like others his age, he thought sports the rage
And he tried to be just like his daddy.

It felt like a dream when young Ed made the team
As a junior varsity halfback
But some other players gave him arrogant stares
He became their continual laughtrack.

He played right along, and he tried to be strong
To show he had no trepidation
It gave him the creeps, but these were his peeps
And he longed for the team’s validation.

He managed all right until one summer night
When the team went to north Pennsylvania
As silent as monks, they all rose from their bunks
as if gripped by a furious mania.

With nary a sound and no coaches around
The older kids pummeled the juvies
They guarded the door while the boys licked the floor
And then squealed like the guy in the movies.

Although that hurt some, there were worse things to come
When the new guys were forced to get naked
The quarterback grinned, “Let the hazing begin!
If you wanna be one of us, take it!”

The torture began all according to plan
With a rhythm like boom-chika-boom-chik
“You better not howl, or we’ll puncture your bowel
With the rubberized end of a broomstick.”

When that part was fun, they continued the fun
Of pine cone and golf ball inserting.
The cavities dripped as the soft tissue ripped
And the feces and blood began spurting.

The victims were warned they’d be punished and scorned
If they told any parents or teachers.
But by the next game, they were still hurt and shamed
You could see the red stains from the bleachers.

The season was stopped and the scholarships dropped
And the town became crazed and divided
A few sent regrets, the others—death threats
Till lawyers and cops were provided.

The rumors did spread from Rosedale to Riverhead
How a team went from scrimmage to Sodom
And poor Edmund cried when a splinter was pried
From the extra-large width of his bottom.

So now there’s a judge who will go through the sludge
Of how innocent boys were imperiled.
The legend will spread like the legs of poor Ed
and the rectum of Edmund Fitzgerald.
The rectum of Edmund Fitzgerald.

Dave’s Gone By Song (12/8/2003): IT’S A STIFF

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A holiday ditty based on the true story of a woman who disposed of her unwanted infant in a not-so-Christmassy way.

Song aired Dec. 8, 2003, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

IT’S A STIFF

Lyrics: David Lefkowitz. Music: Jule Styne’s “Let it Snow”)

Oh, the weather outside is frozen,

so a Brooklyn church was chosen

All bundled in a blanket and a rag

There’s a small baby corpse in a bag.

The mother didn’t want to have her

So now she’s a blue cadaver

And it stinks if you take a whiff

It’s a stiff, it’s a stiff, it’s a stiff.

All the congregants in the church

They try to sympathize with the mother

`cause maybe in nine more months,

She’ll make a lifeless brother.

`Cause she didn’t really have an option

`cept birth control, abortion or adoption

When you’re stuck with a useless tot,

Let it rot, let it rot, let it rot.

Well, it’s kinda hard feeling merry

When you’ve got a bag of bones to bury

There’s very little skin inside;

Mummified, mummified, mummified.

They’ll measure her casket size

While a sermon’s being written

And makeup will soon disguise

Fingers all black and frostbitten. (crack!)

Now the temperature may be frigid

Enough to make a newborn rigid

Too late to save the infant’s soul.

Dig a hole, dig a hole, dig a hole.

It was just the baby’s time to die.

Wonder why, wonder why, wonder why.

Dave’s Gone By Song (12/22/2002): THE TWELVE COMPLAINTS OF CHRISTMAS (sung by Rabbi Sol Solomon)

Rabbi Sol Solomon sings his crabby holiday classic, “The Twelve Complaints of Christmas.”

Segment originally aired Dec. 22, 2002, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.
Please Note: Segments extracted from “Dave’s Gone By” may have music and other elements removed for timing and media re-posting considerations. For the full show with all elements, please visit the audio of the complete original broadcast: Full Episode.

All content (c)2002 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

Dave’s Gone By Song (12/1/2002): NIRVANITY

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ZZ-Song-Nirvanity

Dave sings about the merchandising of Kurt Cobain.

Segment originally aired Dec. 1, 2002, as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

NIRVANITY
by David Lefkowitz (to the melody of “All Apologies”)

What became of me?
Read my diary
It’s all there to see
Where’s my privacy?

Courtney Love
Courtney Love
Made a buck
Courtney Love
Filthy slut
She’s scary
Be wary
She buried me

Wanted to be rich
Bigger than The Rolling Stones
Joined Nirvana which spawned a hundred clones
Now that greedy bitch
Is feeding off my bones

I confess I was a mess
In intestinal distress
Well, I guess
Should’ve eaten less
Dairy
It was very
Like dysentery

All I am is money now
All I am is money now

I was in hell
Needed to get free
So I gave myself
A full lobotomy
Now Courtney sells
All my history
Why must she be
Such a twat to me?

All my thoughts
All my secret, private dreams
All my doodles
All my pain
On Amazon
With my pajamas on
I guess the glamour’s gone

All I am is money now
All I am is money now
All I am is money now
All I am is money now . . .