The Sandy Pants Can!
We have written about Bill Bennett's songwriting contest several times, including here. As you probably remember, Bill is conducting a contest for song parodies relating to Sandy Berger's National Archives escapade. The omni-talented Mark Steyn came up with not one, but three songs, the lyrics to which are reproduced in the post linked above.
This morning, Steyn appeared on Bill's radio show and actually sang his three songs--or verses from them, anyway. It is not to be missed! Following the songfest, Bill and Mark went on to talk about serious matters, including but not limited to Berger's assault on the historical record. It's all here; just play the audio clip:
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UPDATE: The outpouring of creativity continues. A reader was moved by the Steyn Songfest to submit this contribution, sung to the tune of "Mr. Sandman," by the Chordettes. Scott, who is serving as a judge for the competition, tells me that "Mr. Sandman" was a frequent source of inspiration:
Mr. Sandman (Chordettes)
(scat: bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum etc …)
Mr. Sandman, empty your pants,
We've seen you wiggling, they're not full of ants.
Purloining papers won't land you in clover,
Your days in the archives are officially over.
Sandman, you're on your own,
Hillary and Bill won't pick up the phone;
Please forget the song and dance,
Mr. Sandman, empty your pants.
(scat: bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, etc.)
Mr. Sandman, empty your pants,
They're full of secrets, you haven't a chance.
Produce those papers right here in this room,
Don't force us to rummage through your fruit of the looms.
Sandman, we really must scold,
For stuffing your stockings, for being so bold.
Please forget the song and dance,
Mr. Sandman, empty your pants.
(scat: bum, bum, bum, bum, etc.)
Mr. Sandman, (male voice: "Yesss?")empty your pants,
Your trousers are bulging, we can't look askance.
We don't look kindly on fat thieving varmints,
Give us full access to your foundation garments.
Mr.Sandman, your leaving's on hold (leaving's on hold),
Excuses you've given…we're really not sold.
So please forget the song and dance,
Mr. Sandman, empty, please, please,please,
Mr. Sandman, empty your pants.
