2008 Bozo Songs From The Forthcoming Release:
"Time To Flog For Peace"

The 2007 Score: A Bozo Eve Song

Our anthem now is "Because They're Not Like Us".
So a few thousand unknown in our sights again
To stay not overthrown, we warm up the bus.  

When the fence is built, no one will make a fuss
The wages on farms are death, but not yet sin
Our anthem now is "Because They're Not Like Us".

A woman dies in a foreign field, we don't cuss
With shields full of fear, one more spinning has been
To stay not overthrown, we warm up the bus.

It's a time of more gilt, so no one can suss
How we got to this sphere, where the rich man is kin
Our anthem now is "Because They're Not Like Us".

How low is the yield? Seems the leaking, like pus
May sieve out the harm, or land up in a bin
To stay not overthrown, we warm up the bus.

The fights against what we've become are legion
A languished, staving off fits ev'ry region
Our anthem now is "Because They're Not Like Us".
To stay not overthrown, we warm up the bus.

History Reaped Again In Cornfields One Night: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The waters parted to anoint Obama
In Iowa, farmers rose to have their say
And did so as caucusing brought in drama
As inevitable as a new sun each day
A breathless press never did wave a comma
Or ask at last why can't a black man hold sway?
All at once good deeds well became our nation
While Club of Growth drowned, stuck with Revelation. 

The Vytorin Blues: A Bozo Slowdown Song

It sure looks like Conrail
Or at best the Erie Lack
Seems the Fed train's set on fail
Ol' stagflation's coming back.

'gainst the 70s quite pale
Ben Bernanke takes a whack
Arthur Burns is out on bail
Ol' stagflation's coming back.

Bridge:

All the finest Wall street houses
Leverage losses on and on.
Guess the tax cutting for louses
Buys 'em subprime methadon.

Bush begs for a Saudi sail
To prop up his debtor's smack
No sign yet of holy grail
Ol' stagflation's coming back.

The checks aren't in the mail
There's no one in the black
Recession's now our tale
Ol' stagflation's coming back.

Ottava Rima? I Guess That Means I'm Fired: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

Cuccinelli made English the tongue of race
The one that was white he gave free range to fear
Of the one that was brown, he didn't have grace
Or the one that was black? Just like yesteryear!
The ones who see hatred will not shed a tear
For one senator's bill won't disguise his face:
A cowardly lion, who thinks voters thick
But every language will ken Adolf's trick.

It's All In The Package: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The checks? Well, they're coming in the mail in June.
The wrecks? Hell, they're summing up Afghanistan.
The drecks? Sell, they're strumming up a lame duck's tune.
The flecks? Gel, they're drumming up a stimulus plan.
The necks? Fell, they're dumbing down another swoon.
The Brecks? Swell, they're slumming 'coz their highlights can.
Failing sucks, but politics has come to pass
Hailing shmucks, our debts arreared up our kids' ass.

Down Now To Four And No One Mentions The War: A Bozo Villanelle Song

The chance for a black or a woman to win
Seems somewhat less deeply weird than Mitt Romney
See shall we if a gambling nation will spin.

So what is it about, original sin?
Or a heart never buried at Wounded Knee?
The chance for a black or a woman to win.

John McCain, so old, ever tortured his grin.
Will evangelicals grab him, or just flee?
See shall we if a gambling nation will spin.

Polls know no longer are the answers margin. 
Often wheels turn around, then flatten, shall we?
The chance for a black or a woman to win.

Bush years many see headed straight to the bin.
Close Guantanamo: one more unanswered plea.
See shall we if a gambling nation will spin.

Is such polarization ice cold and thin
A warming trend from manifest destiny?
The chance for a black or a woman to win.
See shall we if a gambling nation will spin.

Our War Crimes Come First, Or They'll Give Us The Worst: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

It's always illegal, except in extremes
When advocates say, "Sure! We'll help to make room!"
So drowned in cold water, the CIA schemes
To find what we don't know, they lower the boom.
Small briefs out of Justice, these terror war dreams
And just like Osama, not quite in their tombs.
The curious thing is why no one does care
Such reason seems tortured, law's doomsday affair. 

(Gorilla apologizes to his many fans for being away so long, he joined The Whale on weight loss hiatus, but fortunately the non-Python Palin brings him back!)

Mailin' In With Palin: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The land of king salmon along Don Young Way
Gives rise to a hockey mom lacking a mask
She hopes to attract lots of women who sway
To misogynist cant; their kitchens may bask
In glowing old men trading up for more pay
Not outside their place, nor quite up to the task.
One heartbeat, one token, one vast drilling boom
With Gustav's approach, nailed to her hecatomb.

The Auto-Da-Fe Don't Get In Her Way: A Bozo Villanelle Song

The new Dan Quayle is born
Stem cells now shall live for fright
It's better than to scorn.

The polar bears are corn
Iceberg ethanol alight
The new Dan Quayle is born.

Incest, rape? No, not torn
One in eight too poor to fight
It's better than to scorn.

Stamps out of course the porn
Using Exxon Valdiz light
The new Dan Quayle is born.

A Reagan dawning morn
Grandkids' debts always seem right
It's better than to scorn.

Will voters now forlorn
Say enough, we need respite?
The new Dan Quayle is born.
It's better than to scorn.

Wassailing Through The Long Winter: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

In Wasilla, glaciers came down with the news
Of a teenage girl who found herself in trouble
Not raped, or subject to family abuse
She did love life, so chose to make it double.
On what her faith was based, she heard many views
Mom meanwhile escaped the Alaska bubble.
A politician boasts of experience,
Or when the altar crashes, of bigger tents. 

Yolked To The Triple AOK Corral: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

I phoned up Mister Magical Market Man
To ask about Freddie Mac and Fannie May
"Might it now be time to save 'em,  if you can?"
"Why, it's easy, you've just got to make 'em pay
Unless no more houses sell in my life span."
No, it didn't make much sense, I had to say.
As the begging Wall Street circus comes to town
You'll see Henry, Al, and George among the clowns.

The Lost Weekend Of Pay On Demand: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The hazard is moral, the Treasury's bare
We hope that the foreigners can be ripped off
To bail out our Lehman or WaMu, who cares?
So long as the parachutes golden can scoff
Up Alaskans, the Gitmo idiots' share
Is being like us, as though that was enough.
In dumbing down horror, grandchildren will pay
To see what is left as we end this our day.

The Paulson Concerto: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

Some illusions of empire fall far from grace
While a package composed sure to be a boon
For those now indebted or hung up on race
The chance to be angry is coming quite soon.
So what is discovered in one mirrored face?
Frightening, fearful, always playing in tune.
An orchestra senses how history's made
Of balances wanting, of bills not yet paid.

Speak, Memory! Again: A Bozo Villanelle Song

Let's have a grownup now
Who'll save us from decay!
Instead we get to bow.

One Paulson wonders how
The Congress does delay
Let's have a grownup now.

We might just sell the cow
Illiquid Elsie may!
Instead we get to bow.

McCain he takes a vow
To change not ev'ry day
Let's have a grownup now.

When Wall Street garbage scow
Seeks dock, but not of pay
Instead we get to bow.

So speed up, hock the plow
Unfurrow Ayn Rand's Way
Let's have a grownup now
Instead we get to bow.

Not Exactly What Will Pay, Or So They Say: A Bozo Semi-Ottava Rima Song

When one Cantor's songs are sung, we'll be Jolson
Say no kol nidre,  Swanee line ain't wholesome
While Boehners, insuring one bank's pilaster
Say grandchildren must pay forever after
Whatever these leaders of Prison Folsom
Say waterboard them, on behalf of Paulson
Our pols stay perched in deliverance rafter
Say who is to blame for this great disaster?

Jean Claude Attempts To Break The Buck, Lotsa Luck!: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

When the euro emerged as clean as could be
The doubts that remained were pushed into a whole
Bundesbankers aghast at inflation's spree
Would never agree to a targetless goal
For one brand new alternative currency.
Thus false starts, going down, but finding a role...
Alas, when the time came to lead, M. Trichet
Seemed carried away by belief in cliche.

Freda, We Needa: A Bozo Pastiche Song

Now my wealth's gone
All that's left is Alf Landon scolds
All that's left of my dreams on hold
Gotta sell my gold
And the memories of George Bush shall flee
With Sarah, the right-wing flea!

They took away my shelter, these bankers I had never known
Who love each other
We kissed after taking vows
But that night, as my Visa swooned
We stayed in Hank Paulson's room!

Rebates? In the darkness of my lonely room
Filled with bailouts, filled with gloom
Hoping soon: reason'll walk
To voters door
And Dems win, like they did before!

Now my wealth's gone
All that's left is Alf Landon scolds
All that's left of my dreams on hold
Gotta sell my gold
And the memories of George Bush shall flee
With Sarah, the right-wing flea!

Ooh, don't you know McCain is in his hecatomb
Filled with anger, campaign doomed
Hoping soon the bullshit
At Al Greenspan's core
Makes Dems win, like they did before!

Now my wealth's gone
All that's left is Alf Landon scolds
All that's left of my dreams on hold
Gotta sell my gold
And the memories of George Bush shall flee
With Sarah, the right-wing flea...

Super Trooper, Let's Grab The Pooper Scooper: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

Too busy to be punished with a baby
Hank Paulson girds his loins to make G-7
See that a communique full of maybe
Will send the next Dow Jones straight down to heaven!
State troopers not going, Governor says we
Fire, fire, fire, our vengence will never leaven
Angry staff of life, when illusions are dead
As one Ronald Reagan, or wine dipped by bread. 

Willing The Debate, So Maybe I'll Relate: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

My economic plan changes with each day.
The polls forever scanned, anger will not last
Experience? Howlin', but I'm kept at bay
Sarah Palin does her frowns deranged and vast
Knocked up, erratic, unabridged what will sway
An undecided fish, gaffed upon my cast?
There's Hank, with Ben, and Dick, meanwhile banks recede
How well we loused it up! Lures enthralled to greed.  

Some Carolina Minds Will Not Be So Kind: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

In America's less patriotic parts
Wherein qualified elitists still hold sway
There's not much braggin' about lackin' smarts
Pig ignorance? Heaven? It don't seem to pay.
McCain/Palin's 50s, agleam shopping carts
Deliver Sunbeam white bread saviour today.
Just as in the 30s, they both came to nought
Their wars to demean us are no longer fought.

Two Weeks Until Balloon, While Baying At The Moon: A Bozo Villanelle Song

The questions we must ask:
How do the books come clean?
So who's up to the task?

McCain he seems to bask
In patriotic mean
The questions we must ask.

Obama wears a mask
Inscrutable, not keen
So who's up to the task?

Jobs lost, let's hit the flask?
Deep pockets seldom seen?
The questions we must ask.

Our banks sink to their cask'
Our country seems has been
So who's up to the task?

Once more a leader rose?
Big ears, partician nose?
The questions we must ask:
So who's up to the task?

Another Ted Goes Down: A Bozo Chorus Line

So let's all say farewell to Alaska
We still love your mountains and oil
But the clowns you keep sending, I ask ya:
What else can we do but recoil?

And Shorts Shall Still Squeeze, If You Please: A Bozo  Teutonic  Song
 
Our banks alas, they love the hoarding,
Despite the pleas of manky Hanky,
We all await one Ben Bernanke,
Or Trichet's bit of comme il fait,
Let's hold our breath a week, ok?
Sure Al deserves a waterboarding!
McCain he tries to play it cute
Porsche: there is no substitute.

A Day Of Reckoning, Perhaps Of Beckoning: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The history of evil fools has not passed.
We think the time has now come to transcend hate
The ballot issues vote says prejudice lasts.
A graceless Sarah Palin, whose kind of fate
Shall only be determined by who's aghast:
At gays, as they were when Barack's parents mate
In most states, anger and fear is more than vast.
We trust that 44 will rise well above
Our bitter angel's nature, no longer loved.

The Summit Tears Shed Down The Years: A Bozo Reckoning Song

I want to sail like Sarkozy
Frownin', fuckin' Madame Bruni
Zimbabwe starves, surmise the news
Of loony bail out parvenus
Who insure failin' loans so free
To subsidize long five star queues
While crownin' Tongs in luck shall see
How impure drones still sing the blues.

Hank Paulsen's Way, Not Really Gay: A Bozo Pastiche Song

I ain't got time
To piss away money
So what can it buy?
And I ain't got time
To sit down and wonder
What makes SUVs fly
And I don't have the time
To think about what makes a summit grow
And I never give it a second thought
So long as credit flows
Too busy thinking about my bankers
And I ain't got time for nothin' else
Sure, they're all a bunch of wankers
But I say they must last
And I ain't got time to do no studying
In Sarah Palin's class
And I'm just a fellow
I got a one track mind
And when it comes to
Thinking about my bankers
Sure, I hate the Detroit slime.
Too busy thinking about my bankers
And I ain't got time for nothing else
All the diamonds and pearls in the world
Could never match Ayn Rand's worth
She's some kind of wonderful
People tell you
It's Greenspan heaven here on earth
And I could maybe bellow
But bailouts find
That when it comes to thinking about
Anything but bankers
Two months more, I'll be fine!
Too busy thinking about my bankers
And I ain't got time for nothing else...

The Fulsomeness Of Edit, Not Of Credit: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

The dead cats bounce, falling from CEO jets
Arrived from Detroit, a desperation plea
To be treated more or less like we treat vets
Whose mental health and dodgy vests are not free.
Hank Paulson? Liquid in stone, he won't take bets
On terms for GM, or two for Bernanke.
How Obama stimulates? So close at hand?
Triple A has now become the short sale brand.

The Diffidence Alas Makes No Difference: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

Plus ca change seems mostly like plus ca meme chose
Fossils are recalled, ethics forms are thorough
A country falls apart, and so a Dem chose
Our Barack seems to favor pocket borough
The ships that sail are green, but the ah hems close
Around safety zone, saving GM furrow.
So far it doesn't feel like revolution
But more like Daley's old time devolution.

The Labors Of Hercules, Helping Neighbors: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

When parents get old, the children flee the nest
They will not be told to take the burden on board
That's what it is, being selfish won't be blessed
But that's how they act: to quickly cut the cord.
While waiting for money to come, they invest
In outsourcing responsibility's hoard. 
We'd like to see 'em disappear, but won't say
Just why we can't help at the end of their day.

Hank, Ben, Beyond Their Ken: A Bozo Villanelle Song

No hope that they will sway
The buying up of debts
Is how we live today.

We give beyond our pay
To cover Wall Street bets
No hope that they will sway.

In two months! We well may
Be '62 and Mets
Is how we live today.

Our banks are all in play
Hank Paulson's wayward pets
No hope that they will sway.

One regulator's bay
At home, unsharpened whets
Is how we live today.

Once more our means at end
As all go 'round the bend
No hope that they will sway
Is how we live today.

The Helium Deflates: In Two Months More Cut Rate: A Bozo Villanelle Song

Tough times they say are these, so we become a bank
It's not enough to ease, or cut back salaries
The Bailout is what counts, before they get our Hank.

Greenspan? A genius! But he seems to all quite rank
Never regulatin'? We just collected fees!
Tough times they say are these, so we become a bank.

When home was Goldman Sachs, the champagne that we drank!
We set out to be bold, gave Lehman all our fleas
The Bailout is what counts, before they get our Hank.

Alas a few are gone, but still one Barney Frank
Who may not see us quite as we who are worthies
Tough times they say are these, so we become a bank.

Survivors guilt? Not yet, to whom do we give thanks?
Friedmanite disciples, or our last mortgagees?
The Bailout is what counts, before they get our Hank.

When seasonal adjustments point down, you must say
It's time to short the tears, so long as they're in play
Tough times they say are these, so we become a bank
The Bailout is what counts, before they get our Hank.

Another Terror Attack, Gods Dressed In Black:  A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

What's a godless sorta man called me to do?
I don't begin to understand what drives the hate
I married a Muslim and worked years for Jews
Born a Christian, but can't see much in that fate.
Should I lash out, yet mourn Mumbai, like some Hindus?
Or wait for vestal virgins at pearly gates?
My problem with religion, to get along
Is making this life better, the next's all wrong.

Damn Hanky: A Bozo Pastiche Song

Whenever Paulson speaks
Markets tank
So little left, little Paulson wants you
Make up your mind to change your bets
Decline yourself, resign yourself, you're through
He always gets what he aims for
And your wealth and home is what he came for

Whenever Paulson speaks,
Markets tank
Off goes your job
Don't you know you can't win?
His exceptions prove the rule
He's irresistibly a fool, give in!...Give in!...Give in!

Hello, Hank
So wee!
Your shit so far
Hold on-Bernanke
Aaah-haaaa
Poo poo you're duped
Start to boo
Yoo hoo

He always gets what he aims for
And your wealth and home is what he came for
Paulson speaks
Paulson tanks
His exceptions prove the rule
He's irresistibly a fool!
Give in...Give in...Give in.

Quattrain, Quattrain, Who'll Bail Out The Pain: A Bozo Summary Song

We built a modern day Dust Bowl, on houses full of debt
May well take 10 years to be whole, but that's another yet
Bankers score an own goal, with their Bonus March of don't vet
Stimulus better than clean coal, or hopes of what we'll get.

One Senator Dejected By Bailout Dance: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

McConnell reelected, keen on Georgetown
Wherein the unions rejected, means a chance
Of bailout once perfected, subjectin' frown
Or stimulus now erected, been to dance
Grads so disaffected, cap and trade their gown
For EPA inspected, melamine glance
No ego reflected, how we came this far
The manse once respected, and foreclosed, by gar!!!

The Temperature O'er The Years, Who Is Sure?: A Bozo Ottava Rima Song

25 minutes at 400 degrees
A sprout is well roasted and there ends our day
At fahrenheit 204, how does one see?
The conversion don't yet apply when you say
Gaza is bombed, brought or not, prayin' on knees
478 Kelvin or more to appease
Presidencies, bringing arms, brokerin' change
These two of a kind, going broke, not too strange.

The 2008 Score: A Bozo Ottava Rima Eve Song

We move along, disasters well in the past
Except for what has wiped out our wealth anew
The Middle East conundrum it seems too vast
And bound to last, like hatreds so often do.
A hope, Obama, tied to competence mast
But fearing grinding centrists will not stay true
To cast off mere becoming, to plant a seed
Of being for each other and ending greed.
 

(All Songs On This Web Page Are Copyright ©2007-2008,
Los Bozos Bravos, P.W. Meek, and Gorilla Meek Enterprises,
All Rights Reserved)

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