All in the Family

We received a nice response to last week’s post devoted to one of our favorite goofy old songs, “‘Way Back Home,” by Tom Waring and Al Lewis.

So much so that we thought we’d share with you an alternate set of lyrics by our own Ms. Cladrite.

Where Lewis celebrated the joys of growing up in a rural (or, at least, small-town) setting, the lyrics composed by our missus commemorate a big city (specifically New York City) upbringing.

‘Way Back Home

The streets are the grimiest; the Times is the timesiest;
The mimes are the mimiest; the English, the blimiest;
The subways, slimiest; the raps, the rhymiest,
‘Way back home!

Museums, the mustiest; the pizzas, the crustiest;
Ninth Avenue’s the gustiest; the courts are the justiest;
The governors, the lustiest; drag queens, the bustiest,
‘Way back home!

Don’t know why I left Manhattan, I really must confess.
I’m just a weary exile, singing my song of loneliness.

The bums are the craziest; the beef is the braisiest;
The books are the phrasiest; the corn is the maiziest;
The teens, malaiziest; the cops, the taziest,
‘Way back home!

The coffee’s the perkiest; the muggers, the lurkiest;
The sewers, the murkiest; the neighbors, the quirkiest;
Yanks fans, the jerkiest; pickles, the gherkiest;
‘Way back home!

The trees are the rootiest; the orchestra, the flutiest;
The puppies, the cutiest; Chelsea is the fruitiest;
The wives, the shrewiest; bar TVs, the mutiest,
‘Way back home!

Don’t know why I left Manhattan, I really must confess.
I’m just a weary exile, singing my song of loneliness.

The nuts are the saltiest; the beer is the maltiest;
Criminals the faultiest; the roaches, the crawliest;
The Mets, baseballiest; Apartments, smalliest,
‘Way back home!

Nice work, we think you’ll agree, by Ms. Cladrite, who is not only kind, generous and intelligent (not to mention easy on the eyes), but pretty darned clever, to boot. Ain’t we lucky, though?

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