The title of this blog is based upon the song
sung to me by my husband during times of revelry
or if he is wearing his cowboy hat.
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“Put another log on the fire.
Cook me up some bacon and some beans.
And go out to the car and change the tyre.
Wash my socks and sew my old blue jeans.
Come on, baby, you can fill my pipe,
And then go fetch my slippers.
And boil me up another pot of tea.
Then put another log on the fire, babe,
And come and tell me why you’re leaving me.
Now don’t I let you wash the car on Sunday?
Don’t I warn you when you’re gettin fat?
Ain’t I a-gonna take you fishin’ with me someday?
Well, a man can’t love a woman more than that.
Ain’t I always nice to your kid sister?
Don’t I take her driving every night?
So, sit here at my feet ‘cos I like you when you’re sweet,
And you know it ain’t feminine to fight.”
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I, too, sing.
Often.
Usually loudly.
Hardly ever in tune.
I sing show tunes, children’s songs, pop music and hymns,
and I often make up words
when I can’t remember what they are supposed to be.
For instance:
From The Sound of Music
“The hills are alive with the sound of Anita”
and then hubby sings
“How do you solve a problem like Anita?”
