Lunch Poetry Redux 1998 - Part 1

In honor of our lunch/baseball outing today, I think it's time to share another chapter in Lunch Poetry history. In previous posts I recounted how this tradition started, and shared many examples from its inception in 1996 through the end of 1997. It was a difficult time for many of us as the IRS, especially the Collection Division within which many of us worked, had sort of lost its philosophical way. Our mission seemed to change on a regular basis, sending top leaders into frequent tailspins and the rest of us scrambling to figure out what to do to keep the ship afloat. Times where tense, and the weekly lunch outing provided a few moments of sanity in an otherwise unpleasant situation.

Today, we'll move on with a look into 1998. According to my day planner records, 1998 was a banner year for the Lunch Bunch, with 28 outings. That's a bit too many to cover at once, even in one of my (lengthy) posts. So here are some highlights from the first part of the year.

As noted in my last lunch poetry post, by the end of 1997 the Lunch Bunch had emerged from a nomadic period of searching for a decent lunch spot and had settled on the Mexican Town restaurant in the Mexican Town neighborhood of western Detroit, about a mile from the office. This distance also gave rise to the practice of traveling to lunch in the Burk family van, one of the many important jobs our vans performed over a 20+ year span. As a result, the vans in service during the Lunch Bunch era had a way of showing up in the rhymes (for more on the history of our vans, see Vans Part 1 - The Tiara Years and the two followup posts).  

Our first lunch invitation in 1998 was on January 21st, dead of winter, cold and snowy. Resuming our Lunch Bunch outings to lift spirits in the typical post-holiday funk was quite welcome, as I remember. The poem is set to the tune of the Mamas and Papas' Monday, Monday. It's called Wednesday, Wednesday (our traditional lunch day). And a tip. For full enjoyment of the song parodies, I recommend reading them while listening to the source music. That's the way they were written.

Wednesday, Wednesday, so good to me.
Wednesday Morning, it's when
  I hope it's you'll I see.
But Wednesday morning, Wednesday morning
  can't guarantee,
That Wednesday lunch you'll all be there
  to eat with me.

Wednesday, Wednesday, can't trust that day.
Wednesday, Wednesday, sometimes work gets
  in the way.
Oh Wednesday morning, you give me no warning
  of who'll be free
For Wednesday lunch. How could they eat
  and not take me?

Every other day, every other day,
  every other day of the week is fine, yeah.
But when Wednesday comes, but when Wednesday
  comes, you can find me smilin' out of my mind.

Wednesday, Wednesday,
Hope you'll turn out today.
Wednesday, Wednesday,
Won't go away.
Oh Wednesday, Wednesday,
It's here to stay.

In early February, one of my musical favorites, that pop queen of the 60s Petula Clark, made her lunch poetry debut. (By the way, if anyone's musical collection is short some Petula, I can probably fill the gaps, including a suite of her French recordings muled directly from Paris by an agent of my former rare-music connection, Unmitigated Me herself). This poem's called I Know a Place, to the tune of Petula's hit I know a Place. Not very original on my part, I know.

Everyday, as the pain starts to blind you, and
Your boss (what a bore) lays more work at your door,
You must get away, where those people 
  can't find you.
If you like, well, I'll tell you more.

Don't let the day get the better of you.
'Cause when lunch time comes,  
  there's some people who
Will put forth their best and wear a smile.
You better come with us awhile.

'Cause I tell you...

We need some lunch,
Where the food is so fine
  and the tab is always low.
I know a place, and we should go.

A couple of weeks later we lunched again with this short invitation set to the meter of the old English nursery rhyme Sing a Song of Sixpence. I call it Sing a Song (of Incense).

Bring along your mood (tense?)
And hock it for a smile.
More than plenty good words,
To make it worth your while.
When our lovely entrees,
The waiters finally bring,
We'll pig-out unsaintly-ish.
Can't help it, it's our thing!

February continued to be a hot month for lunch as the Bunch headed out for a third week in row to this poem, set to the tune of another Mamas and Papas' hit Do You Wanna Dance. I call it Do you Wanna Lunch?

Do you wanna lunch?
  Hungry for Mex-light?
Cheese, meat, all gooed-up
  just right.
Oh maybe, you just
  wanna lunch.

Do you wanna lunch,
  and ride my van?
Tell me, I'm your
  driver man.
Oh-oh-oh maybe, 
  you just wanna lunch.

Do you wanna lunch,
  and join our bunch?
C'mon and just maybe,
  I've got a hunch,
Hey maybe, you just 
  need a lunch.

We closed February out with this takeoff on our national anthem. I call it The Star Spangled Burrito.

Oh say, won't you please,
  Help us do lunch up right?
We'll so loudly inhale
  (With our wide smiles fast beaming)
Those broad chips and hot sauce. 
  I could eat them all night.
And the nachos are tops,
  Heaped with melted cheese steaming.

Our eye sockets will flare, 
  Peppers hot as we dare.
Need proof? Well all right.
  There'll be sauce in your hair.
So, hey where's tha-at heart-angled
  vanner-er ye-et wai-ait?
By the curb, oh yes he'll be!
  So please come, and don't be late.

Our February momentum rolled full-bore into March, with this dandy inspired by Jay and the Americans.  I call it Come and Get a Bit Closer. The term "The Border" is from earlier Taco Bell commercials in which they referred to themselves as such. Our reference, of course, is to the Lunch Bunch's Taco Bell origins.

There's a little cafe (though it's not
  quite so nice as "The Border".) 
We will sit in there drooling while
  waiting to place a big order.
Then when "Jose" saunters our way,
  we'll belong to badness, hooray!
Yes we'll choose, things that ooze,
  then we'll schmooze,
And at last we'll be gay-ay-ay.

Come and get a bit closer,
We'll take the green van,
  so big and so long.
Come and get a bit closer,
You're not alone, and it's nice
  to belong.

As you start on your lunch, the sauce,
  it looks so inviting.
And you cannot resist, dipping one
  little chip, so exciting.
Then you scream, "It's the hot!"
  with dismay.
We say, "Chill, Jose's on his way."
Yes he knew, ice water'd do,
  just for you,
And again you'll be gay-ay-ay.

Come and get a bit closer.
We'll make the lunch grand,
  it won't take so long.
Come and get a lot closer.
You'll feel at home, and it helps
  us be strong.

Our second March lunch invitation was inspired by the title song from the musical Oklahoma. I call it McNamara, after the Federal building in which most of us worked at the time.

Maaaaaac - Na-mar-a,
Where the work comes quick
  and quite insane.
And the ravin' meet,
To get complete,
And to try and leave behind the pain.

Maaaaaac - Na-mar-a,
It's a sight, not funny, man, no lie.
There's a lot of talk,
But not much "walk", 
Makes us crazy, mirthless, you and I.

We need to be strong as we can,
So today, we belong in the van!

So when you hear,
  "It's time to go, hooray!"
You know we're saying,
"You need some time out of there-a,
McNamara, go 'way!"
 
Our third and final lunch invitation in March was set to Simon & Garfunkel's I am a Rock. I call it I am a Wreck.

A winter's day?
I'm asleep, and can't remember.
Am I still at home?
Gazing at my in-box, two more piles to go.
I have strangely fallen silent. Now I know!
I am a wreck, I am in "why?" land.

I see halls, a fortress cheap and blighty,
That none dare to update.
I have such need of friendship, friendship eases pain.
It's laughter and it's lunching I must gain.
I am a wreck, I need my van.

I need some food, and my poetry to correct me.
I'll be healed, in my ardor.
Smiling as I swoon, sated just like you-un.
It's so much fun, to go and lunch with thee.
I am a wreck, but I'll be fine again.

And we'll rock, feel no pain.
Come in my van, just your size.

Let me wrap up this first look at 1998 lunch poetry with these two invitations from April. The first came just after a family trip to Disney World, where I ran into - you guessed it - Estelle of the Bell (the lady of the night that has been the subject of many previous Lunch Bunch limericks). She was up to her old tricks, of course, this time with the world's most well-known corporate logo. I call it Ears, Too (Yah) (and please forgive the mild ribaldry, as a true limerick must have some form of it).

While in line to see Goofy I stood,
I heard someone moan, "Ooh that's good!"
So I turned to see who
Had uttered that "ooh".
What I saw I'd forget if I could.

She was stroking those world famous ears.
He was blissful, and nearly in tears.
Estelle and the Mouse?
Right here in Walt's house!
For passion, Estelle has no peers.

This final offering from late April is set to the tune of the rock and roll classic Proud Mary, and is entitled Proud (But Wary).

Workin' my job in the city,
Humpin' for the tax man night and day,
But I'm lost in thought, every now and then,
Dreamin' 'bout the way things should'a been.

"Big wheels" keep on worryin',
Proud (but wary) we be scurryin',
Mopin', hopin', to Mex we'll be delivered.

Seen a lot of waste so senseless,
Felt my little brain, out of new ideas.
But I never saw, the worst fright (wasn't pretty),
Till I hitched a ride with the "never-notes" team.

"Big wheels" keep on churnin',
Too proud, to care 'bout learnin'.
You're knowin', we're goin',
To Mex we'll be delivered.

Hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane, especially those of you who lived it the first time. I had a great time. Talk to you soon.

Grosse Pointe Charles