SONGS WITHOUT MUSIC IF I, LIKE, LOVED YOU Professors quite rightly are professing To be anxious and annoyed, At the growing expression Of expressions we should avoid. For example, if I said, "I like you, Harrison," It meant I'm fond of dear old Harrison. Another meaning meant comparison, As in, "You're not at all like dear old Harrison." Now a new "like" is, like, everywhere, Interjected, unexpected, All our speech is now infected, While good old words are just rejected. I mean, who said"go" should replace good old "say"? I go, "Hello." He goes, "Have a nice day!" I wonder how good old love songs would rate If they were brought, like, up to date. Love me, or like, leave me, And let me be, like, lonely, You won't believe me, I like love you only I'd rather be, like, lonely, Than, like, happy with somebody else. They asked me, like, how I knew My true love was, like, true. I, of course, replied, "Something here, inside Cannot be, like, denied." If I, like, loved you, Time and again I would try to go All I'd want you to know. If I, like, loved you, Words wouldn't, like, come, In an easy way - Round in circles I'd go! Longing to tell you, but afraid and, like, shy, I'd let my golden chances pass, like, by. Soon you'd, like, leave me, Off you would go, in the mist of day, Never, never to know How I'd love you, If I, like, -- totally -- loved you. I REALLY LOVE A QUIET GIRL I really love a quiet girl Who doesn't care for the social whirl, Who likes to laugh in a quiet way, Especially at things I say. Sometimes, I think, I'm not that funny, But she says, "yes, you are that funny, And you're handsome and smart as well. Other men may do their best, But you stand out, over all the rest." She makes me feel so swell. I really love a quiet girl. In the kitchen, she's such a pearl, Preparing anything I wish. Just name some rare, exotic dish, Perhaps a pricey, elusive fish, And there's my dinner, fit for an earl. "Darling, please arrange my files." Nothing, it seems, could erase her smiles. Often, when we went walking, I would handle all the talking. Sometimes she'd stop, say, to fix her shoe. All unknowing, I'd keep walking, Continuing my talking, Every word so eloquent and true. Two blocks later, or maybe three, I would faintly hear a poignant plea, "Wait for me! Wait for me! Wait for me!" I really love a quiet girl, But fate has taken a shocking twirl. I planned to tell her of a new sensation, A runaway hit throughout the nation. They call it "Two-way conversation." Too late. Her idea of innovation? A getaway train from Grand Central Station. PERSONAL PLACES The world rarely tires of changing its look, Never asking my permission. Places we cherish in our memory book Perish daily with rash demolition. Landmarks can be spared, in special cases. But who looks after our personal places, Nooks and corners that hold love's traces, Who preserves the landmarks of the heart? Our gypsy cafe in old Barcelona Is now a McDonald's with an Estonian owner. Our old Roman market was devastated So an older one could be excavated. That little spot on the Ile de Grand Jatte Where you and I got sentimental, Has Terminator 3 for sale or rental. Let's be kind now to that dreadful art That adorned our room in old St. Bart's It came down with the walls At four in the morning When the hurricane hit old St. Bart's. To a changing scene, one reconciles, We're grown up, after all. It was the people, we know, Who made it worthwhile. Tell me then, of the chill in their smiles. Tell me why, in those dear lost places A change has come over all the faces. Do waiters, too, have personal places? Have we become the hurricane? JUST LOOKING A profile on the pillow, the fragrance of her hair, Her breathing, soft and trusting, Her shoulder, smooth and bare. What do you do with a Sleeping Beauty? Where lies love, and where lies duty? Yes, of course, I want to shake her, Yes, of course, I want to wake her, Yes, of course, I want to make her my own. But we're a pair, after all, fair is fair, after all. She needs her rest, not a pest, Forty winks, not hi-jinks, A companion, not d'Artagnan. When consulted, she consoled me. "You can shake me, you can wake me, If you love me, you can take me. If you prize me…do surprise me, You're my very favorite wake-up call." So, with love so…palpitating, So divinely accomodating, What's the point in hesitating? Our love is now sublime. It can happen anytime. But true lovers know…of something deeper, Worth keeping in the heart. Take the time to watch her sleeping, She's like a work of art. How my heart is leaping, I tell the world with pride, Just to see her sleeping, Sleeping by my side. THE LAUGH'S ON ME The joke got started when we parted. That genius idea was mine. I thought romance had departed, It seemed like "end of the line." But love, as you know, likes to lie low, Watching diversions come and go, Looking for signs of pain or regret, Waiting quietly, while we try to forget. Of course, love knows how to win that game -- Simply have someone mention her name. Suddenly, she's all around, driving by, Or on the town. "Michelle, it's me! Over here! Can't you see?" Why won't she turn at the sound of her name? Why do I feel such a clown? She's crossing the street, looking divine, I leap to my feet, I spill all the wine. "Sorry, must fly, my love just walked by!" Too many people get in the way. If I can just catch her, I know what to say, If I can just reach her, I'll simply explain, Then we'll kiss, and we'll cry - we'll be together again. It's a wonder they don't call a cop, When I run and ask them to stop. "Sorry, I was sure You were someone I knew. You could be taken for her sister, You can't imagine how I've missed her. From a distance, you really…you really might be… Forgive me. The laugh is on me. Who am I? Just a guy, Who wanted to be free." © Russell Connor