1. |
Redeemed
01:36
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2. |
River Road Rag
02:05
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3. |
Chief Sitting Bull
02:52
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4. |
Wild John
02:02
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5. |
Snowflake Reel
01:58
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6. |
Gypsy Waltz
03:12
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7. |
My Pretty Rainbow
02:41
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8. |
Apple Blossoms
02:03
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9. |
Boil The Cabbage
02:28
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10. |
I Don't Love Nobody
02:55
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11. |
Amazing Grace
03:23
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12. |
Barnyard Real
00:37
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13. |
Screech Owl (You Are My)
05:05
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Screech Owl (You are My) or
The Talking Screech Owl Blues
The other night I went to put my son to bed
He looked up at me and said, “No!”
I have other plans instead:
There’s a world out there in need of repair
And I’ve got hands and energy to spare
You can’t lock me up in here.”
“In the morning, dear,” I said. “Goodnight.”
That’s when he decided to put up a fight
Screaming and kicking with all of his might.
This is what I sang as I turned out the light.
You are my screech owl, howling car alarm
You are my yowling, scowling alley cat
You are my growling, hungry wolf,
Oh, yes you are, you are my son
You are a screaming weasel with a toothache
An elephant on roller skates
You are my yelping turtledove
You are my love, oh, yes you are
You are a heavy metal xylophone
A warthog weeping to the moon
Janis Joplin out of tune
Oh, yes you are, my little one
You are a grumpy grizzly in the spring
A materialist who’s lost his things
A kangaroo with athlete’s foot
Oh, yes you are, you are my son
Fruit is sweet and good to eat
But too much will give you a tummy ache
There’s also veggies, grains, and cake.
So when my son wanted another banana
I sad, “Man, you cannot live by fruit alone.
You oughta have some more water, then go outside.”
He just looked at me and cried
And let loose a terrible squeal.
I sighed, put on my shoes, and went outside singing
You are a wildly screaming banshee
American Idol wannabe
A crab that’s really, really, really crabby
Oh, yes you are, my little one
You are a wailing, warbling wallaby
A mouse impaled upon a ski
A flea circus without the fleas
Oh, yes you are, you are my son
Frank Sinatra you are not
You are a lobster in the pot
A sharp stick stuck in the eye
You’re my little guy, oh, yes you are
You some like anyone on MTV
A rhino with a horn disease
An alligator who’s lost his teeth
Oh, yes you do, my little son
Some men will rob you with a six gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
Some will shout you down until they have their way.
All that noise is just noise and
Though you may say that boys will be boys
In the end, I think I’ll just mention
That screamers mostly just scream for attention.
Though government is full of screamers too
My screecher’s not elected; he’s a toddler, age two.
Some day he will grow old and use fancified speech,
But just for now, he says what he wants
With an ear deafening screech.
You could bring Jericho to its knees
Disconcert the bumblebees
Actually…you sound a lot like me
My little son
You are my screech owl, howling car alarm
You are my screech owl, howling car alarm
You are my screech owl, howling car alarm
Oh, yes you are, my little son
© John Reinhart, 2011
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The Reinhart Brothers Wheat Ridge, Colorado
Their new album recooks traditional fiddle tunes and serves them hot! Put a lawn chair in your living room, concoct a lemonade, grab your shades and get ready for a holiday like no other. With over 30 years of combined experience playing music together, John and Patrick bring you the unique sounds of Colorado fiddle and tenor guitar, with a dash of kazoo. ... more
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