The Singing Corner

Swing your pants
It’s time to swing your pants! (Absolutely NONE of you will get this reference)

We had quite the musical time last week on I Am Meursault with not one but TWO posts featuring my humdrum poetry. If “If…” and my take on Calvin Trillin’s Chinese food poem didn’t take your fancy, let me try again by digging up some other old musical endeavours of mine.

Please remember that aside from a lifelong love of the Pink Trombone, I have no discernable musical talent whatsoever. However, here are a few ditties to swing your pants to:

One Night in Beijing.

One night in Beijing,
I was playing with my thing,
But the action was really quite slow.
So I found a dirty hooker,
Down an alleyway I took her,
And it only cost me 三块六!

Yang Wei Had A Little Lamb.

Yang Wei had a little lamb,
It’s fleece was right as snow.
He smashed it in the head one day,
And now he eats yang rou!

And thus, a legend was born

The Chinese Communist Party Official Night Out Song.

One Chivas,
Two Chivas,
Three Chivas,

Chivas Man
The target market for Chivas in China

Hotel Fucking Bastard Calfornia.

(First in a planned series of revised covers heard too often in China. Look out in future for Bat out of Fucking Hell, Fucking Angels, Knocking on Heaven’s Fucking Door, Mustang Fucking Sally, and Hey Fucking Jude. All of them will be sang by talentless fucks at an Open Mike Night in a Tier 3 city near you soon.)

In a bar selling Chivas, and flat Tsingtao beers,
Dickheads smoking Chunghwas, all dressed up like queers.
When ahead on the dark stage, I saw a shining spotlight,
Here was a chance to screw some local girl,
Tonight was Open-Mike Night!
Normally I’m just a teacher,
At some shitty Middle School,
But I was thinking to myself, No more Warcraft! I should try to be cool!
So I picked up my guitar, and asked my new friend Ding:
“Take care of the dice for a sec or two,
For tonight I will sing!”

“Hotel fucking bastard California”
What a bag of shit,
Even I admit,
Only complete cunts sing Hotel California,
I have no skill, my life’s gone downhill.

If this wasn’t China, no one would like my song.
But because the folks here have piss-poor taste, I’m a Zhongguo Tong!
They’ll shout out I’m hen shuai, perhaps I’ll get laid.
I’ve fucked girls before, but last time I paid.
I can’t really play guitar,
I only know three notes.
I might be a talentless shit, but even I can sow my wild oats.
Act like a chimp and you’ll be treated like a king,
So come now my fellow Western losers,
Join together and sing:

“Hotel fucking bastard California”
It’s a song for turds!
Who don’t know the words!
Raise your Chivas to the Hotel California,
It’s no big surprise, back home I’m despised…

(There was actually an audio version of this recorded by some friends of mine long ago, but it has long been lost in the mists of time sadly.)


If you enjoyed this post you may also enjoy my book Party Members – a dark comic fantasy that exposes the corrupt underbelly of modern China.

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