NORTH OF THE BORDER

NORTH OF THE BORDER
(To the tune of, “South of the Border,” by Jimmy Kennedy & Michael Carr and featured in Frank Sinatra’s 1958 Concept Album “Come Fly With Me.”)

North of the border from old Mexico.
Down where the Rio Grande lays out its hand
in gentle flow.
The Donald is building a wall soon to grow.
North of the border from old Mexico.

He’s spending a billion to seal-off the land
But he could spend a trillion and still not even understand
These people keep coming, where else can they go?
But North of the border from old Mexico.

In their eyes you can see desperation.
There is violence and chaos about.
And when people have reached desperation.
No silly wall will keep them out.

North of the border we’re really naïve.
Thinking a wall defends when in the end walls deceive.
In shutting them out, we’re shut-in you know.
North of the border from old Mexico.

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reservied

P.S. WE’LL BOMB YOU

Forty-seven GOP Senators sent a letter to the Iranian leadership telling them that the nuclear negotiations will result in no binding deal unless the Senate votes to approve one.  Here’s a parody of their letter in song.

 P.S. WE’LL BOMB YOU
(To the tune of “P.S. I love You,” by Gordon Jenkins & Johnny Mercer)

Thought we’d drop a line to say
Obama’s wrong, he has no sway.
We’ll decide what we should do.
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

Thought you had the perfect deal?
Until we vote, nothing’s for real.
Lest you haven’t got a clue
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

Write to the Pres – tell him that you’d adhere to
whatever deal you’d approve.
Though you’re secret sites, you will let no one near to.
We think a bomb, or two’s the right move.

Guess there’s nothing more to tell.
Except that you, can go to hell.
Hope this message doesn’t calm you.
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

DEAR PRIME MINISTER

I previously posted a song (Mr. President) Prime Minster Netanyahu might sign to President Obama after speaking to congress.  This is my imagined response song from President Obama to Prime Minster Netanyahu.

 DEAR PRIME MINISTER
(To the tune of, “Mr. Wonderful,” by Jerry Bock, Larry Holofcener  & George David Weiss, from the 1956 Broadway show of the same name)

What’s your hurry
to attack?
Why such worry
when we’ve got your back?
Now I sing to you responding to your song,
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

I’ve been working
on this deal.
A solution
at least that is real.
Military options won’t delay them long.
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

And more sanctions imposed with aplomb
Wont’ discourage them from working towards a bomb.

Be pragmatic
Realize
we’re good friends
and steadfast allies.
Twin democracies together we’ll stand strong.
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

MR. PRESIDENT

This is what Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu might sing to President Obama if invited to perform at the White House after addressing congress.

MR. PRESIDENT
(To the tune of, “Mr. Wonderful,” by Jerry Bock, Larry Holofcener & George David Weiss, from the 1956 Broadway show of the same name)

Why this rancor?
Why this gloom?
Why this fear of an impending doom?
I’ll be here and then I’ll be flying home.
Mr. President, “Shalom.”

Why our worry
‘bout Iran?
Well, they’d nuke us
as soon as they can.
The Ayatollah mocks your hopeful tome.
Mr. President, “Shalom.”

Do you really believe that Iran
will abide by your dear peaceful plan?

They’ve been stalling
biding time.
Centrifuges meanwhile
whistle and chime.
So I’ll leave you with this one simple gnome
Mr. President, “Shalom.”

 

Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT

The government in Venezuela is now requiring besieged consumers to submit to fingerprinting when buying goods.

THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT
(To the tune of, “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

There is no butter
And still the fools wait
Out in the gutter
The bread’s gone by eight
Peer through shop windows at bare shelves they hate
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Am I a hoarder?
The state wants no greed
Write down my order
For coffee indeed
Wait in that line, what they have I don’t need
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Who will reform our economy?
What comedy.
Some joke, we’re broke.

If you want dollars, you’d need your own mint
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

They say it’s smugglers.
Who make the goods rare
But they’re like jugglers.
Ten pins in the air.
Nobody hears them above the despair.
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

As merchants leave they board up the shops.
Farms grow no crops.
Oil’s sweet, to eat?

No toilet paper, don’t they get the hint?
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

 

THEY’VE CLOSED MCDONALD’S

Russian authorities have closed all of Moscow’s McDonald’s restaurants.  The closures are allegedly over sanitary violations but few doubt they were for political reasons.

THEY’VE CLOSED MCDONALD’S
(To the tune of “We’re in the Money,” by Harry Warren & Al Dubin, from the film “Gold Diggers of 1933”)

They’ve closed McDonald’s.
They’ve closed McDonald’s.
That fellow Putin
feels like tootin’ his horn.

We level sanctions.
They’ll treble sanctions.
Feels like an old war.
Has that cold war been reborn?

Things happen and they do change.
In the Ukraine, a war.
Call Russia an invader.
But who made those maps they’ll soon redraw?

They’ve closed McDonald’s.
Moscow’s McDonald’s.
No Russian’s eatin’
U.S. meat in that town.

Lyric © 2014 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved