As a youngster, I used to enjoy writing “Weird Al”-style song parodies. I wrote one that changed the title of one of my favorite Saturday morning cartoons to “Muppet Rabies”. I told a story about a classmate who appeared on “Teen Jeopardy” by re-purposing the tune of Rush’s “Tom Sawyer”. At a friend’s request, I once wrote something bashing Derek Jeter and jammed it inside an Eminem song.
As I grew older, I occasionally found a new outlet for this supreme waste of time.
A few years ago, I helped my wife alter some lyrics to the song “Razzle Dazzle” so she could perform it at her company’s talent show (don’t ask). And just last year I whipped up a “Paradise City” parody that referenced Pope Benedict’s abrupt retirement and posted it on Twitter. It’s been retweeted 1,314 times and is easily my most popular tweet, even though I’ve written several about potty training.
I just can’t seem to stop writing the stupid parodies, and yet I’ve never written one about my son (unless you include the one where I sing his name to the tune of the “CHiPs” theme song). Until now. I apologize in advance for wasting your time.
“The (Baby) Weight”
Melody by The Band
Words and lyrics by Dad and Buried
I walked in to get him dressed, was feelin’ bout half past dead
I needed him to not resist, so I wouldn’t see red
“Hey Muncher can you help me, and slide in your left leg?”
He just screamed and ran away, leaving me there to beg
Take a load on, Daddy
Take a load of me
Take a load on Daddy
And (and) (and) take it til I turn eighteen!
I picked up his bags, and went lookin’ for the devil child
When I saw him pulling off his jacket, I went from calm to wild
I said “You’ve got five seconds, we have to go downtown!”
He screamed, “Daddy, NO I WON’T!” and threw himself to the ground
“Please grab him, honey, there ain’t nothin’ more I can say!
He’s just a three-year-old, but he’s driving me insane”
“His twos were fine, I guess it’s just the terrible threes?”
“Then please give me a gun, I can’t make it through his teens!”
Crazy Toddler followed me and he was acting like a frog
He said, “[indecipherable gibberish that sounds nothing like a frog]!”
I said, “Wait a minute, Muncher, you know I don’t speak frog-man.”
He said, “That’s okay, Dad, I just said ‘I pooped my pants.'”
I get walking down the hall, to take my son and go outside
My back is hanging low, from lugging his supplies
That’s when the boy decides, his legs are just too done
“Pick me up and carry me, Dad, I’m a lazy bum!”
And now, to get the taste out of your mouth, here is my favorite version of the original song, from the best concert film ever, Martin Scorsese’s The Last Waltz.