But take me to the haven of your bed,
was something that you never said,
two lumps, please,
you're the bee's knees.
This song is about gay sex. Or bees. Or tea. We re not sure, but we feel completely miserable now.
And take your cap and leave my sweater
Keith Urban, "You ll Think of Me"
Cause we got nothing left to weather
In fact I'll feel a whole lot better.
Sweater? As an Aussie, shouldn t that be jumper? Aside from the irony of a country singer being named Urban, does anyone else feel uneasy with his faux southern twang?
After a little hanky panky,
We make the room smell stanky, frankly,
But I m a man, I don t give a damn. So what s up?
You wanna rub up horny, as I lay back in the cut?"
And then things start getting really raunchy in this song from the funky Jungle Brothers. But at least they were being frank.
Performing on a stool,
Emerson Lake and Palmer, "Karn Evil 9. Second Part."
We've a sight to make you drool,
Seven virgins and a mule,
Keep it cool. Keep it cool.
Because Karn Evils 1 through 8 left so much to be desired. It should also be noted that ELP have a live album called Welcome Back My Friends to the Show That Never Ends
. And at three hours long it might be the most aptly named album in rock history.
I'm like a bowl of gumbo,
Mariah Carey, "Don t Stop"
You ain't hotter than this,
I'm what they play in the clubo.
All right, making fun of Mariah Carey is like making fun of the kid with the helmet on the short bus, but c mon, this line deserves some recognition. But then again, Carey is
like gumbo lumpy, thick and of indeterminate ethnicity.
(Ed Note: Thanks to user CentralTheme for pointing out that the offending gumbo/clubo rhyme is rapped by Mystikal, not sung by Mariah. For more Mystikal related hilarity, check back tomorrow our Cliffs Notes on Mystikal's "Pussy Crook.")
You have many contacts
Bob Dylan, "Ballad of a Thin Man"
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
And top prize for worst rhyming goes to his Bobness, naturally. Sure, he is a poet and the voice of a generation, but at some point during the '60s he realized that he could write anything he wanted and, as long as it rhymed, Rolling Stone
would think it was important commentary on Vietnam. So, like any artist who isn't being challenged, he got lazy, and started alternating actual poetry with nonsensical jibberish about "having contacts among the lumberjacks."
When he's not writing for CRACKED, Kevin Hill can be found insulting musicians over at PlayOnLyrics.com