Date:         14 Feb 97 09:02:08 PST
Sender:       Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@vanagon.com>
From:         CARVER_JEFFREY@aphub.aerojetpd.com (Jeff Carver)
Subject:      VW Bus in song, lyrics

It's Friday, and time for another song containing a reference to a VW 
bus.

Mama was a Deadhead
by Reverend Billy C. Wirtz

First, imagine a 6 foot 5, heavily tattooed, long hair playing a mean blues, 
boogie woogie piano, facing the audience over an electronic piano.  
With the presence of a preacher man and the wit of one who takes few things 
seriously, except his piano playing.  Crank up the volume!


    Mama, was a Deadhead, daddy's brains were fried.
    They named me Casey Jones at birth, my pampers were all tie died.


My first toys were a worn out bong and beat up hacky sacks,
had the Jerry Garcia coloring book that said, color all of Jerry's clothes black.

My first taste of candy was a coconut granola bar,
and mama would rock me to sleep at night and sing the live version of Dark Star.

The neighbors would call us burnouts and hippies, and mom would just say,  . cool!
We'd ride around town in a VW BUS with bumper stickers saying "The 
fat man rules".

We hung Frisbees on the tree at Christmas and Bic lighters at Hanukkah too.
We named our kitty cat Sugaree, and the litter box Morning Dew.

`cause


    Mama was a Deadhead and daddy's brains were fried.
    They named me Casey Jones at birth, my pampers were all tie died.


But one day all this blissed out hippie life, I guess it got under my skin.
One night around my 16th birthday I said, Hey mom, what a long dumb trip it's all been.

I pasted up Barry Manilow pictures, and dumped out the family bongs,
and re-recorded mama's live bootleg cassettes with a collection of Billy Ray Cyrus songs.

<huge groan from the crowd>
<<"It was funny up to that point , huh?" the Rev exclaims>>

Things had changed in my life, I ran away to the east coast. 

I was working at the beach and going up fast.
And then a phone call came from Red Rocks Colorado that mama had breathed her last.

It seems there'd been an electrical storm at the outdoor concert and mama was in a metal 
porta john.
There was a bolt of lightning and a methane explosion, but mama, was gone.

Among all the cards, I noticed at the funeral home, there was one addressed to me.
With trembling fingers I opened it up, `cause I knew what it was gonna be.

Mama never told you the truth son, `cause the vibes would've been so bad.
You were conceived one night backstage at the Filmore West, I know, 
`cause I was there, signed Jerry Garcia, your dad.

`cause


    Mama was a Deadhead and daddy's brain were fried.
    They named me Casey Jones at birth, my pampers were tie died.

- Jeff
'80 Westi