The Publick Jukebox
Wherein the Author observes that a Ballad travels faster than a Letter, and offers a few for the Road to the Polls.
When my Grandpapa was a Boy, his Brother James set him to writing Ballads. One was about a Lighthouse Keeper drowned with his Family, and another was a Sailor's Song about the Capture of Blackbeard. Grandpapa printed them and was sent about the Town to sell them, and the first, he recalled, "sold wonderfully." His Father then told him that Verse-makers were generally Beggars, and that was the End of that.
I have decided to ignore my Great-Grandpapa. The Republic is in Want of Songs, and I have a few. The Words are mine. The Musick was assembled with the help of DEI, by which I mean, as I explained in October, Digitally-Enhanced Intelligence: a Contraption which plays every Instrument and complains about none.
♫ Hear the whole Album on Spotify ♫ or on Apple Music
Upon Becoming Sane Again, by Polly Dogood. Seven Songs, on Her Publick Records.
No. 1 Playtime's Over
A dark Pop Anthem, concerning a small King and his Friends, who play at Government.
The Words
Little king, little king, what did you take today
Little king, little king, who's gonna make you pay
Gold on the ceiling, gold on the chair
Gold on the doorknobs of the house that we share
A prince sent a plane with a bow on the wing
And nobody asked what it cost to be king
His friends wear their suits like they borrowed them from Dad
Playing at Government, the best game they ever had
And they take, and they take, and they take again
And they send you the bill and they call it a win
Playtime's over, put down the crown
This isn't your castle, this isn't your town
You can stamp, you can sulk, you can kick at the ground
But playtime's over
Playtime's over
Every game has an end
It was only pretend
A judge said no, so he threw a fit
A friend told the truth and got fired for it
The ones we sent to keep him in line
Sit cross-legged on the carpet, saying everything's fine
Little man in a big chair, signing his name so loud
Mistaking the noise of his friends for the roar of a crowd
Ring-a-ring the supper bell, the light is getting low
Every game the children play, the grown-ups end it so
November third, the bell rings clear
November third, the grown-ups are here
Playtime's over, put down the crown
This isn't your castle, this isn't your town
You can stamp, you can sulk, you can kick at the ground
But playtime's over
Playtime's over
Every game has an end
It was only pretend
Little king, little king, who's gonna make you pay
We are
We are
No. 2 Liddle' King Donnie
An angry Folk Song, in the old Protest Manner, put as a Series of Questions to a small King.
The Words
Do you wake up in the morning and polish all the gold
Do you count up all the money from the little coins you sold
Do you take the prince's airplane for a spin around the sky
And tell the folks back home it came with no strings tied
Liddle' King Donnie, what's your con today
Oh, Liddle' King Donnie, what corruption shall we play
You hand the pardons to your friends and you hand the bill to me
And you call it making great again the land of the free
Does the nurse in Ohio get a ballroom of her own
Does the farmer get his market back, or just a bailout and a loan
Does the mother with the sick child get a pardon for her debts
Or a letter saying Medicaid's the next thing that gets cut
You say the men out on the boats were guilty, but you never told us how
There wasn't any judge, there wasn't any jury, there's only ocean now
And where's the Congress
Sleeping in the back row of the hall
They had the purse, they had the power, they had the keys to it all
They swore the same oath you did with a hand upon the Book
Now they stand behind you in the photograph, too scared to look
They wrote it down in Philadelphia so no man would be king
They wrote it down in ink and blood, and we forgot the thing
But there's a Tuesday in November and a pencil in my hand
And Liddle' King Donnie, you will never understand
Liddle' King Donnie, what's your con today
Oh, Liddle' King Donnie, what corruption shall we play
Well, the game is called a ballot, and the people deal the hand
And Liddle' King Donnie
You will never understand
No. 3 Blue, No Matter Who
A Country Song, for those who find the Prices high and the Supervision low.
The Words
Oh, yeah
Rent went up in April and the groceries cost a mint
Got a tariff on my pickup and a hole where the paycheck went
Meanwhile up in Washington a prince sent him a plane
And he's sellin' shiny coins to strangers
Who won't give their names
And old George Washington is rollin' in his grave
Ben Franklin's shakin' his head at the mess we've made
Yeah
Prices are high and the paycheck's thin
But we can't afford to leave him unsupervised again
So hold your nose if you need to
If that's what it takes to do
Be a patriot in November, vote blue
No matter who
No matter who
The Congress had the purse strings and the power to say no
But they handed him the car keys and went home to watch the show
He sits on the money they passed
He switches off the laws they wrote
He's firin' all the referees
He's blowin' up the boats
And the ones we sent to watch him
Are down on bended knees
Sayin' "Yes sir, Liddle' King"
And "Anything you please"
Renee Good and Alex Pretti
Say their names and say 'em clear
Killed by federal agents on a Minneapolis street this year
Then they shut the State investigators out
And swore that it was fair
And nobody's been charged
'Cause nobody up there cares
Ben said "a republic, if you can keep it," and he meant it, too
Well, keepin' it ain't free
And keepin' it's on me and you
Liddle' King Donnie's had his playground long enough
Send a grown-up to the Congress
Somebody who's tough
Oh, yeah
Prices are high and the paycheck's thin
But we can't afford to leave him unsupervised again
So hold your nose if you need to
If that's what it takes to do
Be a patriot in November, vote blue
No matter who
No matter who
No matter who
No. 4 Make It Sane Again
A stomping Song of Union, for Neighbours who disagree, and Uncles one only speaks to about the Ballgame.
The Words
Stomp, clap
Stomp, clap
My neighbor flies a flag I'd never fly
He's got a sign out front that makes me roll my eyes
But when the storm took down the old oak tree
He was out there with a chainsaw before me
Me and my uncle don't talk politics no more
We talk about the ballgame and the prices at the store
And somewhere in between the turkey and the pumpkin pie
We found we both just want our kids to be alright
Oh, we've been shoutin' through the walls so long
We forgot we're singin' the same old song
So raise it up, raise it up, every voice in the land
You don't have to agree to take another's hand
From the hills to the harbor, from the pines to the plains
Come on, America, let's make it sane again
Hey, hey, hey
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Hey, hey, hey
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Let's make it sane again
Hey
No one that I know wants a king on a throne
Nobody wants to pay for a billionaire's third home
Nobody wants their neighbor hauled off into the night
With no judge and no charges and no one to read them their rights
Abe said a house divided cannot stand
Ben said "if you can keep it," so let's keep it, hand in hand
It ain't red, it ain't blue, it's the red, white and blue
And the only way through it is me and you
So come November, bring your neighbor along
Bring your uncle, bring your cousin, bring this song
So raise it up, raise it up, every voice in the land
You don't have to agree to take another's hand
From the hills to the harbor, from the pines to the plains
Come on, America, let's make it sane again
Let's make it sane again, sane again
Come on, America, let's make it sane again
No. 5 Rock-a-Bye Congress
A Lullaby for a sleeping Legislature, which does not stay a Lullaby for long.
The Words
Rock-a-bye Congress, asleep in the dome
The purse in your pocket, the keys left at home
When the King takes the money, nobody calls
And down comes the Treasury, Article and all
Wake up
It's Article One, you were first in line
You had one job and you're sleepin' through the time
He spends what you never gave him, he keeps what you did
He starts the wars you never voted on, and you hide like a kid
Snooze, snooze, hit the button, roll over again
Snooze, snooze, while the country's in the deep end
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye no more
The People are knockin', so open the door
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, you're done
November the third, we're sendin' someone
Subpoenas in the sock drawer, the gavel in the bin
You let him fire the watchmen, then you let his cronies in
You got the purse, the override, impeachment and the vote
And you're sleepin' through the siren like it's someone else's boat
Snooze, snooze, hit the button, roll over again
Snooze, snooze, while the country's in the deep end
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye no more
The People are knockin', so open the door
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, you're done
November the third, we're sendin' someone
Hush, little Speaker, don't say a word
Daddy's gonna post somethin' absurd
And if that post should start a war
You'll sleep right through it like the time before
Article One
Article One
Wake up, wake up, Article One
Article One
Article One
Wake up, wake up, what have you done
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye no more
The People are knockin', so open the door
Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye, you're done
November the third, we're sendin' someone
Rock-a-bye Congress
Wake up
No. 6 You Gotta Vote
A Dance Song, for those in the Middle, who mean to fix it by and large.
The Words
Yeah, yeah
Take a look around, tell me what do you see
Fear and division gettin' between you and me
Whatever happened to the home of the free
When this land belonged to both you and me
We used to disagree and still get the facts right
Now we just pitch our tents on the left or the right
And if you're not on our side, then we gotta fight
I miss the days we could argue all night
And still be friends in the morning light
I don't know how we got here
Got here
But I know how to fix it
Fix it
Grab a little piece of paper and a pen, now kick it
You gotta go vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
Don't let 'em take your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
You gotta, you gotta use your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
The right ain't right, and the right ain't right
And the left has left us
So meet me in the middle
Don't let the billionaires best us
Don't let the billionaires best us
Don't let the billionaires best us
Scrollin' through the hate till my thumb gets sore
Every feed's sellin' fear and they're beggin' for more
The billionaires own the screens and they're cashin' in on the fight
They don't care who's wrong, they don't care who's right
My uncle's in red and my sister's in blue
They both pay the rent and the grocery bill too
Same old roof and the same old leaks
Funny how the rich get richer every week
Gimme a V
Gimme an O
Gimme a T
Gimme an E
What's that spell
Vote
Who's it for
So come November, put the phone down
Walk in that booth like you own this town
'Cause you do
You gotta go vote, vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
Don't let 'em take your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
You gotta use your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
The right ain't right, ain't right, ain't right
And the left has left us
So meet me in the middle
Don't let the billionaires best us
No. 7 You Gotta Vote (Horns Mix)
The same Song, with Trumpets, as the Occasion requires.
The Words
Take a look around, tell me what do you see
Fear and division gettin' between you and me
Whatever happened to the home of the free
When this land belonged to both you and me
We used to disagree and still get the facts right
Now we just pitch our tents on the left or the right
And if you're not on our side, then we gotta fight
I miss the days we could argue all night
And still be friends in the morning light
I don't know how we got here
Got here
But I know how to fix it
Fix it
Grab a little piece of paper and a pen, now kick it
You gotta go vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
Don't let 'em take your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
You gotta use your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
The right ain't right, and the left has left us
So meet me in the middle
Don't let the billionaires best us
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Hey, scrollin' through the hate till my thumb gets sore
Every feed's sellin' fear and they're beggin' for more
Oh, the billionaires own the screens and they're cashin' in on the fight
They don't care who's wrong, they don't care who's right
My uncle's in red and my sister's in blue
But they both pay the rent and the grocery bill too
Hey, same old roof and the same old leaks
Funny how the rich get richer every week
I don't know how we got here
But I know how to fix it
Those in the middle gonna do it, by and large
By kickin' out the children who are currently in charge
You gotta go vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
Don't let 'em take your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
You gotta use your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
The right ain't right, and the left has left us
So meet me in the middle, don't let the billionaires best us
Gimme a V
V
Gimme an O
O
Gimme a T
T
Gimme an E
E
What's that spell
Who's it for
Us
What's that spell
Who's it for
Us
So come November, put the phone down
Walk in that booth like you own this town
'Cause you do
You gotta go vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
Don't let 'em take your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
You gotta use your vote, vote, vote, vote, vote
The right ain't right
And the left has left us
So meet me in the middle
Don't let the billionaires best us
November third
All seven are also on Spotify and Apple Music, where a Stream costs you nothing and pays the Author a Fraction of a Penny, which she will spend on Ink.
P.S. Readers may sing these at any Tavern, Meeting-House or Polling Place, though I would ask that you stand at least the lawful Distance from the Ballot Box, and sing in Tune.