Daily Archives: January 30, 2012

I’m Cooke’d

Sometimes, one blog is enough.  Sometimes, one blog leads to another.  Sometimes you just have to steal someone else’s topic.

And that’s where I am tonight.  Stealing someone else’s theme.  But, honestly, Bryonic Man, this was much too long to do in a comment.  And you got your pingback.  So that’ll give you an extra hit or two.  No more, though.  Sorry.

Bryonic Man wrote a great post about songs that drive him crazy, and opening the floor to those that drive his readers crazy.  It’s here.    I started to leave a comment, but well, it didn’t quite fit in with his theme of “songs that make you suicidal.”  My story is kinda cute.  Unless, of course, you’re me.  Then you must live in shame for as long as the gods rule.  Maybe longer if you blog it.

It’s not a song I hate, or one that makes me dive for the mute button.  I like this song.  It’s running through my head right now, and I don’t want to jump off the roof.  I could listen to it repeatedly, and sing along happily each time.  Until I pay attention to the lyrics, that is.

This song is one of my clearest, early memories.  A “Sunday night with the family” memory.  I remember Ed Sullivan.  I remember the cute babies hanging from the ceiling of the set with their bows drawn and their arrows pointing.  I remember the tune, although not who sang it.  And YouTube is not helping.

Unfortunately, I remember the lyrics.  Well, I remembered my lyrics.

You know those songs where you can’t quite come up with the right lyrics, they’re muffled, swallowed, unclear?  This isn’t one of them.  These lyrics are, in fact, pretty clear.  Just about anyone listening can figure out what they are.  Except me.  Well, except little me.  If I heard it for the first time today, well, I’m sure I’d get it.

But I happily sang these lyrics until a year or two ago, when I listened to myself singing.  Suddenly, I knew that I had the lyrics wrong.  And that I am, yes, an idiot.  Because I should have figured this out, well, a while ago.  And that’s why this song makes me feel, well, foolish.

I constructed these lyrics I one night while watching the Ed Sullivan Show.  When I was little, long before I knew who Cupid was, and what Cupid did.  And how Cupid had a bow.  A bow with which he shot folks.  Long before I knew much of anything in fact.  And I sang these lyrics for nearly fifty years:

Cute Baby, Draw Back Your Bow

And Let,

Your arrow go

Straight to

My mother’s arm

For Me

I am so glad you don’t really know who I am.

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