Camp songs are as much a part of the summer camp experience as rumpie rash and chocolate chip pudding. Looking back, some of these songs, which take up enough of my long-term memory that years 10 to 12 are otherwise blank, are a little strange, if not downright disturbing. Death, chemical dependency, absent parents, and carrion-eating birds of prey: someone thought these were good topics for 86 adolescent girls to sing about in unison. "Of course they'll harmonize about prunes! Someone get out the harmonica."
A few of my favorites:
Prunie
A baby prune's just like his dad,
'Cept he ain't wrinkled half so bad.
We have wrinkles on our face.
Prunie has them every place.
No matter how young a prune may be,
He's always getting stewed.
Little seed inside a prune,
Is it night or is it noon?
Whatcha doin', Prunie? Stewin'? Hmm?
Little Willy
My n-n-n-n-name is little Willy, Willy.
And I-I-I-I-I am only three, only three.
They s-s-s-s-say because I stutter, stutter,
That n-n-n-n-no one cares for me, cares for me.
My m-m-m-m-mama used to stutter, stutter.
My p-p-p-p-papa stuttered too, stuttered too.
It t-t-t-t-took so long to marry, marry,
Because the p-poor preacher stuttered too, stuttered too.
One Beer for One
One beer for one.
Two beers for two.
Three beers for three.
Four beers for me.
I staggered home.
And rang the bell.
My wife came down.
And she said, "Hello, dear! Do I smell beer?"
"Don't be silly. That's sasparilly!"
MTA
[Chorus]
But did he ever return?
No he never returned, and his fate is still unknown.
Poor old Charlie.
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston.
He's the man who never returned.
McGilly Was Dead
Oh, McGilly was dead and so was McCartney.
McCartney was dead and so was McGilly.
McGilly was dead and so was McCartney.
But neither one knew that the other was dead.
Awang. Awang. Awang. Awang.
Three Cross-Eyed Buzzards
Three cross-eyed buzzards.
Sitting in a dead tree.
Sitting in a dead tree.
One flew away.
What a shame.
Two cross-eyed buzzards...
Eddie Coochie Catchy Kama
Eddie Coochie Catchy Kama Tosa Neera Cosanara Sama Kama Wocky Brown
Fell into a well, fell into a well, fell into a deep, dark well.
...
To the well
Everybody came.
What a shame,
It took so long to say his name that
Eddie Coochie Catchy Kama Tosa Neera Cosanara Sama Kama Wocky Brown
Who?
[slower] Eddie Coochie Catchy Kama Tosa Neera Cosanara Sama Kama Wocky Brown
Drowned.
Know any camp songs that sound as if they were written by Stephen King and Sylvia Plath?
Related Post: Playlist: The Songs of Summer
Topics: Life
Tags: songs, weird things, summer camp
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