Sweet Mama, Sweet Daddy, Come In.

by Bumper Jacksons

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    Artwork by Matthew Wrightson

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about

Lyrics:

St. Claude's Waltz ~

I’ve got the lonesome blues for you, my love
I’m biking home on worn down drunk feet
I’ve got the lonesome blues for you, my love
Why did I leave you for New Orleans?
I went off in search of the land of gold,
Come home with pockets full of mud
Holding onto should and what-ifs like seeds
Tell me, can I still be loved?
I’ve got the lonesome blues for you, my love
So I’m drinking away my land of dreams


Bacon Adoration ~

I got porkchops, taters and collard greens,
eggs & toast & baked beans,
if its gonna be good, you know what it needs!
I like Bacon on Everything!
Pickles & scallops & apple pie
toothpaste, whiskey, grilled cheese on rye
Oh Lord Jesus, its heaven to me!
I like Bacon on Everything!
Oh I love my honey, yes I do
he’s a special kind of man
but the thing that keeps me comin’ home each night
is what he’s got in the frying pan
Brussel sprouts & cottage cheese
bloody mary’s & ice cream
throw your hands in the air, hear the ladies scream
I like Bacon on Everything!
Ya know my baby’s got a lot of charm
And to his sweetness I’m endeared
but you know what really won my heart
was his bacon-flavored beard!
oh yeah, you want that bacon? do you, do you really want it?
(shout section, changes every time)
I want that certain special something
I’ll tell you and I won’t feel no guilt
When I get my man at home tonight
I’m gonna wrap him in a bacon quilt!
I got porkchops, taters and collard greens,
eggs & toast & baked beans,
if its gonna be good, you know what it needs!
I like Bacon on Everything!
Pickles & scallops & apple pie
toothpaste, whiskey, grilled cheese on rye
Oh Lord Jesus, its heaven to me!
I like Bacon on Everything!


Tippy Toe Sam ~

They call him Tippy Toe Sam
Left on the side of the road
They call him Tippy Toe Sam
Mama didn’t want him on the day he was born
Little bitty baby with mile-long toes
To get a shoe to fit him, had to sell his soul
They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He had to sell him soul

They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He reach high up on that shelf (2x)
(what you think he reaching for, mama?)
A bottle appears from you don’t know where
He’ll get you nice and goozy and then leave you on the stairs
They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He reach high up on that shelf

They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He got a greedy mind (2x)
For a hat full of dollars, he’ll reach up in the sky
Drag you down a star, and he’ll never ask why
They call him Tippy Toe Sam
And no, he never asks why

They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He met him a piano man
Oo, yes, Tippy Toe Sam
Met a man with whale-sized hands
(oo, he wants to be Jonah)
He wanted a kiss from that piano man
So he stripped off his socks and played a baby grand
With his mile-long toes, he played a baby grand

They call him Tippy Toe Sam
He married that piano man
Oo, yes Tippy Toe Sam
Married that man with the whale-sized hands
They had a baby boy and they named him Dean
Had the longest nose that you ever did see
They call him Tippy Toe Sam
Happy with his piano man

When the Sun Goes Down in Harlem (adapted tune from the Harlem Hamfats)

When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear those people holler
Sweet Mama, Sweet Daddy, come in
We’re gonna have a party, gonna invite everybody
Sweet Mama, Sweet Daddy, come in
Pick up Auntie Lulu, and bring nothing but yourselves
We got chicken in the fry pan and whiskey on the shelf
When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear those people holler
Sweet Mama, Sweet Daddy, come in

When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear those Mamas holler
Sweet babies, oh my children, come in
The buildings are so tall & the shadows always follow
Sweet babies, oh my children, come in
When I was on Broadway, I knew a real bad man
I might die in prison, and he can do the same
When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear those mamas holler
Sweet babies, my children, come in

When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear the women holler
Sweet Papa, Oh Daddy, come in
They come out on their doorsteps, entice the men to follow
Sweet Daddy, Oo Papa, come in
They were born in the ghetto, so you think they’re easy to rule
But one roll of their shoulders, drop a big man on the floor
When the sun goes down in Harlem,
you can hear the women holler
Sweet Papa, Oh Baby, come in


Ragtime Millionaire ~

I’m a rag (she’s a rag)
I’m a rag (yes a rag)
I’m a rag (oh rag)
Ragtime Millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

Rockefeller on my left, Carnegie on my right
Both of ‘em be hatin ‘cause my game’s so tight
Got diamonds on my fingers, ears and toes
A twenty dollar bill just to blow my nose
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

All my teeth are solid gold
Makes them boys look icy cold
I brush my teeth with diamond dust
I don’t care if the band goes bust
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

Put it in the papers, Hearst’s headline
My bank roll’s bigger than Taft’s behind
Everywhere I go I make it rain
Gatsby’s parties seem frugal and tame
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

When I go to town I order the finest wine
You wanna get with me, you better get in line
‘Cause any man would grovel and crawl
For a chance to be kickin’ in my bed stall
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

I’m a rag (she’s a rag)
I’m a rag (yes a rag)
I’m a rag (oh rag)
Ragtime Millionaire
All you little people take your hat off to me ‘cause I’m a ragtime millionaire

credits

released March 18, 2014

Jess Eliot Myhre: lead and harmony vocals, clarinet, washboard, kazoo
Dr. C. Philip Ousley: lead and harmony vocals, guitar, banjo uke, 'mouth horn'
Alex Lacquement: harmony vocals, upright bass
Brian Priebe: harmony vocals, trombone
Dave Hadley: pedal steel
Dan Cohan: The Suitcase

featuring:
Sarah Foard: harmony vocals, fiddle
Kate Saylor: fiddle
Letitia Van Sant: harmony vocals

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Bumper Jacksons Washington, D.C.

The Bumper Jacksons are hot and sweet, painting America's story by scrapping together new sounds from forgotten 78's.  Honored as the region's 2015 "Artist of the Year" and "Best Folk Band" from 2013-2015 at the Washington Area Music Awards, the Bumper Jacksons are playfully creative with their originals and re-imagining roots music with both power and tenderness. ... more

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