Sunday, April 24, 2005

Hey, Alexander Pope

Here’s another song I wrote but never used; this one was in college when I was an English Major (also known as an Untouchable among students in real disciplines), and it’s kind of a Cole Porter pastiche as applied to an English-lit subject. In fact the model for the song, and for the melody, such as it was, was a ‘40s Porter song called “Hey, Good-Lookin’.”

Also, the joke in the Interlude is in extremely bad taste, but it was hard to resist the play on the title of “The Rape of the Lock.” Apologies in advance.


Alexander Pope was a famous versifier,
Ev’rything he wrote drove his reputation higher,
Ev’rything was his that a poet could desire,
Still, he felt glum.
Alexander’s mood could be best described as grumpy,
All because his back could be best described as humpy,
Alexander thought, being short and sort of dumpy,
Love would never come.
And then one night, as he sat alone and tortured,
A bell-like voice called out from his apple orchard:

Refrain 1

Hey, Alexander,
Alexander Pope,
I’m lovely and young and here among your plants.
I’m callin’: Say, Alexander,
May I speak with candor?
Your poetry would be grander
With a touch of romance.
To improve your art,
The crazy human heart
Is something you should start
Thinking of.
So don’t delay, Alex Pope,
Broaden up your scope,
Take a trip on that slippery slope
Known as love.


I’ve never bin a fan of all your preachy stuff,
And as for slamming dunces, once is quite enough.
Your version of the Iliad was fine, no doubt,
Except you filtered all the sex and violence out.
Although you told the world “Whatever is, is right,”
Whatever is, is wrong when you’re alone at night.
I’m sure that it would give you quite a pleasant shock
To find that there are better things to rape than a little old lock.

Refrain 2

Hey, Alexander,
Alexander Pope,
How can you refuse a luscious muse like me?
Don’t run away, Alexander,
Meet this sweet demander;
You’ll find that when you philander,
Your expression’s more free.
Don’t be so sedate,
You need to gravitate
To subjects they would hate
Up above.
So come and play, Alex Pope,
Don’t be such a dope,
Have a fling and a swing on the rope
Known as love.
This night could be – I think you said it best –
What oft was thought but ne’er so well express’d,
So I hope you can cope
With a grip and a grope
And a slip on the slope
Known as love!

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