Lunch Poetry Redux 1998 - Part 2

It's about time I finished this review of 1998 lunch invitation poetry, begun last July. As a prelim to reading this post, I suggest you return to Part 1 for a quick reminder of where I left off. That post also contains the background on the stressful working conditions we were all facing at the time, which was part of the energy that drove participation in the frequent lunch outings. The rest of the energy came from our natural inclination to sneak out from work and have a little fun whenever we could. You might also want to revisit my first post on Lunch Poetry for the story of it's origins and early activities. And as I've noted in earlier posts, the song parodies are best appreciated if read while listening to the original tunes, as the rewrites were created in a mimic style.

We pick up the action in May of 1998. We were still frequenting the Mexican Town restaurant in the Mexican Town section of Detroit, and making most of our journeys together in the big van. So the fun was curb to curb.

It wasn't until the third week of May that the group was able to get together for a lunch. I myself had been on the road for two weeks, first to Washington for a management conference, then on to Houston for a week long continuing education session. Being a bit weary from the travel, I poured my tired psyche into this lengthy rendering entitled Sighing, set to the tune of Roy Orbison's Crying. 

Was on the road, for awhile.
Things weren't right, couldn't smile.
Then I saw one, so bright,
A taco joint, my delight,
So I stopped, for two to go.
But they were closed (Oh Hell!)
They wouldn't sell!
I started sigh-igh-igh-igh-ing, oh so blue.
Sigh-igh-igh-igh-ing, just need "two".
Then a cop said, "Move along."
Left me wandering, so alone.
Alone and sighing.
(Well, maybe crying, no just sighing,
Okay, crying.)
Why can't they understand,
Just put "two" in my hand,
And I'd be flying.

Now that I'm home, I still need "two".
Yes it's sad, sad, but true.
I need them even more than I did before,
So kids, what else can I do?
You must come with me, or I'll always be,
Sigh-igh-igh-igh-ing, over "two".
And cry-y-y-y-ing, oh so blue.
Yes at lunch, we'll be gone,
And from that moment on,
We'll be driving, thriving,
Jiving and high-fi-i-i-ving,
Flying, and "oh my-ing"
Over "two".

Back at home and back in the saddle, we made lunch again the next week to close out May. It being hockey playoff season, the invitation involved a visit by our old Queen of the Bell, Estelle, to the Joe Louis arena one night (if you're not familiar with Estelle, she's our mythical lady of the street whose original turf was the Taco Bell where it all started). If you remember the key players on the Wings in 1998, this rhyme will ring several bells. And as always with Estelle, beware of just a smattering of ribaldry. I call this 10 Minute Majors.

The scoreboard said Dallas was winning,
Yet the Wings on the bench were all grinning.
Seems the boys, between shifts,
Were receiving free gifts,
From that lass so proficient at sinning.

First Sergei, then Stevie and Brent,
On to Slava and Shanny she went.
But when Rouse and McCarty
Joined in on the party,
To the penalty box she was sent.

So alas, poor Estelle paid the price,
For too many "men" on the ice.
"Don't worry, my dear,"
Offered Scotty with cheer.
"You can't win the Cup playing nice!"

In June, despite end of school year and start of summer activities, the group was able to squeeze in three lunches. The invitation for the first was set to the Irving Berlin classic What'll I Do, actually penned in the '20s. It's entitled What'll I Chew.

What'll I chew, with you,
  At lunch, today?
When I, must choose,
  What'll I chew?

Wonderful goo, the cheese,
  And sauce, so "ooh".
I'm misty, true,
  Thinking it through.

What'll you do, when soon,
  I come, for you,
To help me muddle through. 

Can't go alone, I need,
  The crew, it's true.
So won't, you come, 
  What'll you do?

The second invitation of the month was called The Rite Thing and was set to the opening verse of Carly Simon's The Right Thing to Do.

There's somethin' you can do
  to turn me so gay.
Somethin', everyone can play.
Go with me now,
  stay as long as you may.
Lunch with you's the right thing to do.
Lunch with you's the rite thing.

Oh, oh, oh, oh...

I know you've had some bad luck
  with cravings before,
They drove you till you ate like crazy.
But it's important that you know,
  When your done you'll endure.
Lunch with you's the right thing to do.
Lunch with you's the rite thing.

We closed out our June program with a lunch invitation set to Johnny Horton's North to Alaska. I call it
Forth, To a Blast, Yah!

Hey, go forth, to a blast, yah!
Go forth, the lunch is on.

 Big van leaves the corner,
  At 11:22.
We'll forge past those pot holes
  (No other way will do).
We'll cross without a quiver,
  Till we've found that Hispania gold,
Beyond the fat we're countin'
  Just a little more feast than home.

We'll feel like majestic mountains,
  (To Bally's we should go!)
We'll eat till we seem quite pudgy,
  And the rush will soothe us so.
With our appetite's a runnin' wild,
  It's another grand mid-day run.
Yes, come and join our go-lightly band,
  It's here we have our fun.

Where the waistlines are bendin',
  Our spirits are mendin'.
Come forth, to a blast, yah!
  Come forth, the lunch is on.

July being a month busy with family outings (including moving my son Ted to his first job, in Dallas), we didn't get the lunch crowd together until the last week. But we kept our streak alive, responding to this variation on the show tune Getting to Know You, entitled Get Up and Go, You!

Get up and go, you,
Or we'll go now, without you.
We'd really like to,
Have you along, hope you're free.

Get up and go, now,
Suddenly we're in flight and dizzy,
Because of all, the, beautiful fat food,
We'll, be, scarfing (oh how crude!)
Hey, it's our day!

In August we made up for lost time with four lunch outings, what a lacrosse player would call a Texas hat trick. The first invitation was this takeoff on the Uncle Remus classic Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, which I cleverly call Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay.
My oh my, need a taco today.
Plenty of salsa, comin' our way,
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay.

Mr. Waiter at my shoulder,
We're fadin', eyes glazin',
So get us all the stuff
  we're cravin'!

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay.
Meet us at lunch time,
We'll van you away! 

The second invitation of the month was called Pinata Man, and set to Billy Joel's Piano Man, a crowd favorite.

It's ll:19 on a taco day,
The regular crowd climbs on in.
The old man at the wheel sitting next to me,
Greets us all with a sardonic grin.

He says, "Friends, will you make me a memory?
If so, s'really time we all go.
It's so saucy and sweet,
Our immersion complete,
As we get ourselves into the flow."

So take us to lunch, oh Pinata Man.
Van us along, so right.
We're all in the mood for some empathy,
And soon we'll be seeing the light.

For our third invitation I went to country music royalty, with this parody of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire, entitled Sting of Fire.

Lunch, does a yearning bring.
  It awakes, a desire to cling.
Bound, by a need so dire,
  We're called, to the "sting of fire".

Let's crawl in to that
  Verdant van for hire.
We'll go down, down, down,
  To that place where we "unwire".
Let it burn, salsa, burn,
  The sting of fire, oh bring us higher.

For our fourth invitation of the month we took a page out of the headlines; namely, President Clinton's "intern" dilemma. And who better qualified to comment on this affair than - you guessed it - Estelle. I call this The Whole Truth.

As Estelle lounged in front of her Sony,
She chortled at Bill's testimony.
"You didn't, but she did?
Who're you tryin' to kid?
I'm sorry, but that sounds a tad phony!"

In September we kept up the pace fairly well with three outings. The invitation for the first, a little departure from the norm, was this acrostic, our second of the Lunch Poetry series.

 Most
 Everyone
'Xpects
 It
 Can't
 Avoid
 Nature

 This
 Outing
 We
 Need

Returning to form for the second invitation of the month, this offering is entitled P-M-R-S and is set to the tune of the Village People's Y-M-C-A (for those of you who avoided employment in the IRS, PMRS stands for the Performance Management Recognition System, the much-hated appraisal process and bonus system that all managers had inflicted upon them - and they in turn inflicted onto others - every September; the mere mention of it still brings back a sensation of angst). Here goes.

Yo, Man, we know why you feel down, I say
Go, Man, work yourself up a frown, I pray
Oh, Man, that your turn will come 'round, but
There's no chance you'll be happy,

So, Man, there's no place you can go, you're dead.
No, Man, you ain't gettin' no dough, they said.
You can, pitch a fit 'til you're red, but
There's no way you'll get any....

It's no fun to lose P-M-R-S!
Let's go hit the booze, no P-M-R-S.
We'll just have to take it, such a dirty shame.
Only way we'd make it? Find someone else to blame.

Oh, for P-M-R-S,
P-M-R-S....

Our last invitation for September was this parody of PBS's Mr. Rogers. It's entitled Senor Rogers and is best read while slipping into a cardigan.

It's a dutiful day, in the "labor 'hood".
But a beautiful day to savor.
How is your mind?
Do you feel fine?

Come be neighborly, hey, 'cause it's truly good.
A flavorly way, and your duty.
Maybe you'll find,
Relief from the grind.

So let's get close in this beautiful way.
We'll get together, and van away.
Won't you be kind?
Please come and dine.
Won't you join us, neighbor?

As fair weather waned, my travel schedule mushroomed, and the holidays appeared on the horizon, it became harder to get the group together. Through the final quarter of 1998 we managed only five outings, three of which were in October. The first was this broodish ditty called Garish, set to the tune of the Association's 60s classic Cherish.

Garish is the word I'd use to describe,
The feeling that I have,
  Guiding me to beans refried.
You don't know how many times I've wished
  We could just stay there.
You know, just chill and chow and chat
  And lose the day there.
Come on let's go and get some Mex,
  I know the way there.
Don't be "scar-ish", I'll just perish,
  Unless you come and be garish, too.
And it's true,
Yes I do,
Act garish, too,
Garish is the word.

This second invitation of the month was a little more upbeat, but still on the lament side. I call it Drawn, So Away, set to the tune of the Four Seasons' Dawn.

Pretty much by mid-to-late morn,
You feel yourself drawn.

Drawn, so come away,
  "It'll be good" for you. You're so
Drawn, what the hey?
  We'll get food for you.

Come down, climb up, get in.
Think, how the menu will tease.
Think, of the salsa and cheese. Now
Think, just how cool it'd be,
  Eating tacos with me, and we.

Drawn so away, please come and play.
Although I fear, we'll all want to stay,
  All Day. I know you're...

Drawn. So come on, let's all go away!
Gone, we should be, so what do you say?

The lunch activity for the month ended with this rhyme I call Chances Are, set to the Johnny Mathis love opus by the same name.

Chances are that you're worn a little thin,
And no fun is comin' to you.
Maybe you should take a little lunch with the crew.
Rants and fuss will expose you to the whips,
So come get a grip, save your mind.
Just be sure you're at the green van in time.

It'd be tragic if your plight,
Wasn't eased over lunch here.
Come with us, we believe the chips
  That fill the bowls, will heal our souls.

Yes, you'll feel all light and free,
It's the only place to be.
So if you think you should,
Well chances are your pants may feel
  Awfully tight.
But chances are your heart will feel
  Awfully right!

Our remaining two outings for the year happened in November, both somewhat inspired by the holidays. This first one is set to the popular standard Over the River and Through the Woods, and it's entitled Oh, For the Quiver.

Oh, for the quiver that moves me good,
When grandly the van, she goes.
Of course all the way,
We warily sway,
O'er the winding, derelict road.

Oh, for the shiver that through me goes,
It's Mex time again, you know.
It zings the nose,
And rights the woes,
As oh, for the 'Town we go!

The last invitation for the year was this limerick starring our bawdy heroine Estelle. Once again, I must provide you with a ribaldry warning. This one's right at the edge of Burk blog-ability. But hey, it happened, so let's go for it. It's called Turkey Surprise. 

As she stuffed big "Tom" with her dressing,
She muttered, "Cold meat, how depressing."
But, as she basted the bird,
Certain body parts stirred,
And Estelle said her Thanksgiving blessing!

Well, there you have it. Way more about having lunch than you could possibly need. In retrospect, reviewing this and the Part 1 post, I think the lunch crowd had an active and successful 1998, though we bowed to business travel and holiday leave at the end, failing to meet even once in December. Still, all things considered, it was probably our peak. And for good measure, here is a pic of the Burk van that was in service in 1998.
                         

It was a Starcraft beauty, the perfect ride for an extrovert who hated lunching alone.

And here is the beloved Mexican Town restaurant that to this day is the venue of the continuing Lunch Bunch outings.

 
I hope you enjoyed this brief glimpse into the past. These poetry posts are always fun for me, as I get reacquainted with some very old friends. Looking ahead I can tell you there is still more. While 1999 lunch outings were a bit less frequent than in 1998, they did give rise to some worthy additions to the lunch poetry legacy. But more on that in a subsequent post.

Until next time, Grosse Pointe Charles.