My Little Love Hut (an unrecorded song by “Hoarse House”)

Verse 1

your tooth face
your mouth paste
your south lands
the mouths on your hands

your sling face
your mouth stone
you’re all alone lands
you’re the mouths on your hands

Chorus 1

my throat keeps getting pulled out
my neck’s getting constantly cut
my eyes keep sticking shut
my nose can only smell blood
and there’s something
that looks like smoke
pouring out of
my little love hut

Verse 2

your fire clothes
your mouth nose
you’re rose stands
in the mouths on your hands

your hero clothes
your mouth pose
your toast stands
in the mouth’s sun you’re hands

Chorus 2

my throat keeps getting pulled out
my neck’s getting constantly cut
my eyes keep sticking out
my nose can only smell blood
my wool still has its shout
my rut is a deeper cut
my eyes can turn all the way around
and there’s a fire-breathing dragon
that keeps burning down
my little love hut

(solo for prepared accordion)

Verse 3

you’re stale kale
you’re window air
you state ways
from the mouth on your snail

you’re time’s fail
your window peace
you foam away
from the mouth on your snail

Chorus 3

my throat keeps getting pulled out
my neck’s getting constantly cut
my eyes keep sticking out
my nose can only smell blood
my wool’s turned to a sheer shout
my rut is a deeper cut
my eyes can turn all the way around
to see my throat keep getting pulled out
to see my neck get constantly cut
to see my eyes shut and sticking out
to see my nose blurt out in blood
why can’t it be water
why can’t it be water
why can’t it be water
why can’t it be water, and not fire
that keeps burning down
my little love hut

(solo for prepared accordion – coda version)

Super-Creepy Christmas Song

(verse 1)
I danced with Baby Jesus,
I danced with Baby Jesus,
somewhere cold and dark,
somewhere underground.
We danced to the music,
that haunting kind of music,
that haunting kind of music
that doesn’t make a sound.

(chorus 1)
Oh, the snakes they grow like weeds
straight up outta the jar.
I have 10 gold cities
made of wooden shacks
somewhere off the freeway
in the trunk of a car.

(verse 2)
I held the Baby Jesus,
I held the Baby Jesus,
‘til he burst apart
all over my arms.
We danced to the music,
that haunting kind of music,
that in your head kind of music
that doesn’t make a sound.

(chorus 2)
Oh, my arms they grow like snakes
that grow like weeds.
I have have 10 gold cities
made of wooden shacks
in a trunk off the freeway –
the sum of all my worldly deeds.

(bridge – whispered, with finger clicks keeping the beat)
Feliz Navidad.
Feliz Navidad.
Feliz Navidad.
Feliz Navidad.

(clarinet solo)

(verse 3)
I danced with Baby Jesus,
I danced with Baby Jesus,
somewhere cold and dark,
somewhere underground.
We danced to the music,
that haunting kind of music,
that in your head kind of music
that doesn’t make a sound.

(chorus 3)
Oh I empty jars of snakes
thrown in the weeds.
I have have 10 gold cities
made of wooden shacks
in a trunk off the freeway –
the sum of all my worldly deeds.

(repeat ad nausem into to fade)
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus.
I danced with Baby Jesus …

Leave More Room for the Wine (from the “Lost Songs of Louie Armstrong Songbook”)

Pour the violin from the wineskin, Betty,
and leave more room for the wine.
If it’s a Stradivarius, I don’t care-i-ous –
all I’m thinkin’ ’bout is wine, Betty, wine.
Pour the violin from the wineskin, Betty,
and leave more room for the wine.

Take the ship out of the bottle, Betty,
and leave more room for the wine.
Set it to sea, makes no difference to me –
all I’m thinkin’ ’bout is wine, Betty, wine.
Take the ship out of the bottle, Betty,
and leave more room for the wine.

Take the giraffe out the carafe, Betty,
and leave more room for the wine.
Sell him off to a zoo, I don’t care what you do –
all I’m thinkin’ ’bout is wine, Betty, wine.
Take the giraffe out of the carafe, Betty
and leave more room for the wine

Take your blue lace out the suitcase, Betty,
and break out all the wine.
Come here on the bed, drive me out of my head –
all I’m thinkin’ ’bout is wine, Betty, wine, Betty,
Betty, Betty, wine, wine.
Yes. take your blue lace out the suitcase, Betty,
and break out all the wine.

What’s That Prove (Yeah, Man)? – (from “Songs That Will Never Be Recorded”)

I’ll take love
less the world
I’ll take doves
less their wings
I’ll stuff them with
spent chewing gum
serve them with
pineapple rings

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?

I’ll take forks
less their tines
I’ll take storks
less their beaks
I’ll invent a new
modern language
where to talk nobody speaks

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?

I’ll stitch a cape of wonder
I’ll stuff it with thunder
I’ll radiate like fire
I’ll wrap my mind in wire

I’ll take sleeves
less their shirts
I’ll take leaves
less their trees
I’ll win the Nobel Prize
for making
all volcanoes freeze

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?

I’ll write stories
less the letters
I’ll right Lauries
less their sweaters
I’ll make a giant
ball of cheese
made solely of cheddars

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?

I’ll make a gentler toaster
I’ll surf a roller-coaster
I’ll float like cloudy skies
I’ll fall out of your eyes

I’ll take love
less the world
I’ll take doves
less their wings
I’ll stuff them with
spent chewing gum
serve them with
pineapple rings

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?

but what’s that prove
(yeah, man)
what’s that prove?


This one sounds to me very much like “And Your Bird Can Sing” by the Beatles

Racoon Eyes (a song unlikely to ever to be recorded)

I could take half of the lies
coming out of your racoon eyes
match them with the words
spit them in the dirt
powerwash everything you touched
can’t brush away the hurt

I threw away your coat
changed the sheets twice on my bed
sanded off my fingertips
stuffed sawdust in my head

but your racoon eyes
but your racoon eyes
but your racoon eyes
became the night

you’re underwhelming
you’re necessary
you’re cold like stone
you’re in a hurry
you’re au currant
you’re the big show
you’re getting blurry now
do you have to go?

I threw away your coat
changed the sheets twice on my bed
turned up Songs for the Deaf
dreamed that you never left

and your racoon eyes
and your racoon eyes
and your racoon eyes
became the night

[J. Mascis-like guitar solo]

you’re my undertow
you’re my love of worry
you’re cold like bone
you’re thin – like a flurry
you’re in the past
you’re a rerun show
you’re getting blurry now
why’d you have to go

I wish I could touch your coat
I wish you were passed out in my bed
I wish you’d misses sent
I wish you never left

and your racoon eyes
and your racoon eyes
and your racoon eyes
come out every night


This one sounds like Blink 182/pop punk

If You Asked Me (an as yet unrecorded song by “The Nonsensicals”)

(chorus 1)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of plague
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me

(verse 1)
If I was a leper
and I had leprosy
I’d try to stay away
but if you asked me
I would hold you
night and day (aaah)

(chorus 2)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of pus
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me

(verse 2)
If I was on fire
a blazing ball of flames
I’d try to stay away
but if you asked me
I would hold you
night and day (aaah)

(guitar solo)

(bridge)
If I was covered in acid
covered in leeches
I’d try to stay far from
your loving reaches
but my heart don’t care
what reason teaches
and I can’t deny
your loving beseeches (wooooh)

(chorus 3)
If the very last thing
I had on earth
was a box of plague
I’d give it to you
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
if you asked me
if you asked me to (oooh, oooh)
but you won’t ask me


I actually have the melody for this and was thinking of recording it…the overall sound is The Beatles cicra “Please, Please Me.”

Folk Song

cousin to enemy
for the cause of six cares
crashing through doves
deathly hawks in the air
cancel my cable
for it’ll never reach there
crane your neck back
and swallow all the stars
before you start to stare

lover to lion
for the care of the cause
divin’ then crashin’
to the clicking applause
recycle my lifeline
for I’ve only got paws
’cause for the dove’s love
I let them
take my claws

father to stranger
what’s left of your core
where once was a beacon
now only dark shore
as you hang by a thread
I hang by your door
and I know where this road goes
’cause I’ve been
lost on it
many, many times before

Your Momma’s Red Lipstick (a Leonard Cohen song not written by Leonard Cohen and unlikely to ever be recorded by Leonard Cohen)

(Verse 1)

I chose hope.
I chose love.
I never tried to be Peruvian.
I’m not trying to be a dove.

I drank milk.
I ate through tweed.
I was so insatiable for want
I had forgotten ‘bout the need.

I trashed the garbage.
I cleaned the sink.
I apprenticed as a furrier,
but I let loose all the mink.

I ironed my hair.
I burned my sleeve.
I stood four years in a doorway
I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

(Chorus)

Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)* *sung by Gospel choir
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.

(Verse 2)

I feared the light.
I liked a brand.
I sewed glove from a sow’s ear
that could fit on either hand.

I painted your toes.
I rode a bull.
So I wouldn’t have to speak
I made sure my mouth was always full.

I fed the cat.
I rubbed my tummy.
I bludgeoned a ventriloquist
then was beat up by his dummy.

I lobbed grenades.
I rang a bell.
I took a stray back to the pound
because I didn’t like his smell.

(Chorus)

Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.

(Bridge)

When I thought I was reaching heaven
it was the worst of all I’ve sinned.
When I thought I was breakin’ hearts
I was only breaking wind.

Now I’m opening my eyes
over fifty times an hour

I’m done with chasing happy endings
underneath a golden shower

(Fiddle Solo)

(Verse 3)

I crashed a boat.
I cast a hex.
I isolated chromosomes.
I paid a clown for sex.

I listened loosely.
I stared away.
I offered you my belly lint
when there was nothing to say.

I joined a cult.
I pet a cloud.
I got tossed out of the ballet
because my cheering was too loud.

I courted death.
I courted ruin.
I learned to sign my name
in a Middle Earth dwarf rune.

(Chorus)

Now I come knocking at your door
in a suit that’s double-breasted
I was forwarded a message
that my services are requested
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.
Don’t be a prickly little snot,
Don’t be a snotty little prick.
Don’t make me put you in a headlock
and smear your mouth (your mouth)
sloppily (sloppily)
with your momma’s (with your momma’s, ooohh, ooohhh)
red lipstick.

Angel Baby Girl (lyrics to a song unlikely to ever be recorded)

[verse 1]
my angel baby has lasers / that shoot out of her eyes
when she raises her head / they slice up the sky
the ceiling of our world / is way too low
I try to stop them but / they burn through the pillow

[verse 2]
if there’s any one true thing / that I’ve learned
there ain’t nothing in this world / that can’t be burned
when fire touches / all things seen
and even water burns / with gasoline

[chorus]
we want to stay in dreams / where everything’s a toy
you’re my angel baby girl / and I’m your sick boy

[verse 3]
we drag ourselves to ourselves / we’re unnecessary
think of your next six breaths / they’ve now become voluntary
maybe hell is a heaven / you can’t forget
can find the pills or the switch / to shut it off yet

[chorus]
we want to stay in dreams / where everything’s a toy
you’re my angel baby girl / and I’m your sick boy
we want to stay in dreams / where everything’s a joy
you’re my angel baby girl / and I’m your sick boy

[repeat into fade out]

She Was a Crooked Comb (a song which if ever recorded would sound a lot like Crooked Fingers)

She Was a Crooked Comb


This is a very short song (unlikely to ever be recorded) whose melody and arrangement in my head has the feel of a lot of songs on the very first Crooked Fingers album – IMHO one of the best debut albums ever recorded (even though Eric Bachman did fantastic things w/ the Archers, technically, that’s a debut album) by a band that’s criminally under-appreciated and deserves a wider audience.