#1

"Buy Your Baby Chocolates"

by S. Cahn and J. VanHeusen

(Prelude)

Shuffling through Central Park in a rain

That chills you to the bone

But you don’t notice

‘cause you’re so cold and wet

Park Avenue feels like a slum

Lexington seems quite glum

The laughter at O’Hannahans’ sounds like cryin’

But, you wouldn’t be here at the corner of 5^th and Misery

If you’d just done it the Broad’s Wayyyyyyyyyyy (CRESCENDO, EASE INTO THE NEXT WORD)yyyyyyyyy

Buy your baby chocolates

When she has a gripe

Just ‘cause your breath’s

a little ripe

Or ‘cause you’ve been sleeping with an actually astounding amount of other women

(HORNS)

Buy your baby chocolates

To quell that problem she’s havin’

It's easier than talkin’

Cheaper than a tower

Technically sweeter than kissin’

Now, chocolates can be solid or hollow

Filled with caramel, nuts, or marshmallow

They can be dark, sweet, or "rallow"

And can be filled with caramel, nuts, or marshmallow

Buy your baby chocolates

It’s an accepted form of truce

That lets you fix things up

Without gettin’ to the truth

She doesn’t need any more fragrance

You’re sick of all that perfumed hair

Buy your baby chocolates

I said buy your koo-koo, wacky, weird, screwed up,

High maintenance, ball and chain, trampy broad some chocolates today!!!!!!!!! (EASE YOUR VOICE UP HERE TO A VERY HIGH WARBLY SOPRANO)

(HORNS THAT GO "BA DA BA BA BAAAA!, ETC.")

by F. Ebb and J. Kander

When I’m down out West way

I’m sure to stop in one town

That’s been known to hop*!

O-Oh, you know what town I mean,

K-Kan’t you guess?

L-Hell is worse than this place!

A-That’s right! It’s Oklahoma City!

Okla feels like Homa ‘cause they have

Some restaurants and a Sam Goody at the Spring Hill Mall

A surprisingly decent art museum and…(Frank, I need to do some research, but I would basically continue in this vain. Give me your thoughts. - Jack)

*NOTE: Need to confirm this – Jack

by Cole Porter

Hello, Mister. Goodbye, blues.

I’ve found myself a lover

With eyes so blue

They wash the blues away

The last verse is somewhat confusin’

But, my dear, I’m out of my senses with a swoonin’

Dreamin’ about your deep brown hair

And huge meaty pecs

The way your massive arms

Twirl me through the New York air

I think I’m on a delicious plane ride

Full of mustachioed, bulky stewards

Offering coffee, tea, or…!

Hello, Mister.

I believe I left my heart

In your tan, strong hands

Could you check them

And let me knowwwww

Hello, Mister. Goodbye, blues.

I’m happy once more!

And I’ll never…No, never! I said, I’ll never have to say "Hello, Blues,"

"How you doin’, Pain?" or "Whazzup, Negativity" again!

by Frank Sinatra (!)

Dear Tony,

You are cordially invited to have your pale, white ass handed to you on a silver platter with a side of friggin’ mostacolli, you friggin’ bum. I am startled that you do not know of who it is you are dealing with. I’m Frank Sinatra. Ring any friggin’ bells? And don’t think I’m bustin’ balls with this correspondence. No one, I repeat: "No one," embarrasses me in front of my friends. Don’t pretend that you do not know of what I am speaking of. What with that imitation of me you entertained everyone with at John Ritter’s cruelty against animals, anti-breast cancer, free the slaves, whatever it was shindig. You think I’d just let that go? Well, you’ll be getting a visit from some of my "associates" soon after you get this little love letter.

With the utmost sincerity,

Frank Sinatra

P.S. Don’t think you can use this letter as evidence of my criminal intentions towards you either, you friggin’ molullo. I’ve written it in an disappearing ink I’ve invented.

P.P.S. If some of the ink has disappeared before you’ve been able to read this letter, call me, and I’ll let you know what it said. (I’ve written this P.P.S. in non-disappearing ink).

P.P.P.S. If all the letter except the above P.P.S has disappeared, you probably won’t understand why I’m talking about disappearing ink. And I bet that will be real amusing to you, Mr. Imitator at Shindigs. Well, you can use it in your imitations…after you’re dead!