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I'll be up at Citizens Bank Park singing the anthem at the Phillies game this afternoon. Looking forward to seeing some of my old friend on the grounds crew and seeing if I cans till hit that high note. Go Phils!

7/8/6

I'll be on WXPN's Kids Corner this coming Tuesday night (streaming on the web through www.xpn.org) It's been a while since I tried out any new kids material on the radio... but since I actually LIVED this lyric (as the unfortunate father) I figured I would share it...

The Day a Mouse Got in my Father’s Pants   (John Flynn)

This story’s true it’s not a euphemism…
It’s not a tall tale or a metaphor
It sounds apocryphal but friend it isn’t
Some things a fella  just won’t stand still for
My daddy never tripped the light fandango
I never one time saw him bust a move
He never did the fox trot or the tango
But anyone can boogie as he proved

Chorus:
The day a mouse... the day a mouse
The day a mouse got in my father’s pants
Right in our house my mother’s spouse
Decided it was time he learned to dance

I was acquainted with the mouse in question
A true amigo and a cherished pet
And though I tried to take my dad’s suggestion
To keep him in his cage -- I did forget
That adults act all weird and get the jitters
They up and leap out of the chairs they’re in
Each time a white mouse accidentally skitters
Across a grown-ups unsuspecting skin chorus

Now my poor father never saw it coming
He was just paging through his magazines
When from beneath his chair my mouse went running
Right up his sweat sock and inside his jeans
Dad laced his fingers tight around his shinbone
Squeezed both hands frantically above his knee
But I knew from pallor of his skin tone
That mouse got where no mouse should ever be  chorus

Dad did the rumba and the funky chicken
He did the two step and the Watusi
Dad did the moonwalk halfway cross the kitchen
Tap danced and polkaed simultaneously
He did the cha-cha and he did the limbo
He did the twist and shimmied cross the floor
He stood like Elvis with his legs akimbo
then vanished quickly through the bathroom door chorus

My father opened up the bathroom door then
He slid his jeans out to me on the floor
There in his crumpled pants I found my poor friend
no worse for where he'd never been before
This story’s true it’s not a euphemism
It’s not a tall tale or a metaphor
It sounds apocryphal but friend it isn’t
Some things a fella just won’t stand still for

© 2006 Flying Stone Music

 City of New Orleans Journal

(c) John Flynn, All rights reserved