Just Me, Just MeSweet Marie, she loves just me(She also loves Maurice McGhee).No she don’t, she loves just me(She also loves Louise Dupree).No she don’t, she loves just me(She also loves the willow tree).No she don’t, she loves just me!(Poor, poor fool, why can’t you seeShe can love others and still love thee.)
The Little Boy and the Old ManSaid the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”Said the old man, “I do that too.”The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”I do that too,” laughed the little old man.Said the little boy, “I often cry.”The old man nodded, “So do I.”But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seemsGrown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.I know what you mean,” said the little old man.
There’s a Polar BearIn our Frigidaire–He likes it ’cause it’s cold in there.With his seat in the meatAnd his face in the fishAnd his big hairy pawsIn the buttery dish,He’s nibbling the noodles,And munching the rice,He’s slurping the soda,He’s licking the ice.And he lets out a roarIf you open the door.And it gives me a scareTo know he’s in there–That Polary BearIn our Fridgitydaire.