Saturday, 12 April 2008

A Bear Named Pooh, by JJ Cash

Johnny Cash’s Children’s Album for ****’s sakes!

He was only singing other peoples' songs.

Seems like he missed one trick, though…


My Boy left home when We Were Six

And he didn't leave much to Owl and me

Just this old guitar and a soggy pile of sticks.

I don't blame him ‘cos he ran, that kid

But the meanest thing that he ever did

Was before he left, he went and named me "Pooh."

Well, he must have thought it gave me poise

But it got lots of laughs from of lots of toys,

It seems I had to fight my whole life through.

Some doll would giggle and I'd shout ‘Ted’

And some Golly'd laugh and I'd biff his head,

I tell you, life ain't easy for a bear named ‘Pooh.’

Well, I grew up fat and I grew up brittle,

My paw got hard but my brain stayed little,

I'd roam from woods to woods to hide my shame.

But I made a vow to the moon and stars

As I'd search the toy-towns’ shops for jars

I’d stuff the boy who gave me that awful name.

Well, in Dingley-Dell I had a hunch

As I entered town and I looked for lunch,

And I thought I'd stop and have myself a few.

At a beaver’s dam by a stand of pines,

Was the son of the man who edited Punch:

That freckled, mop-topped cad who named me "Pooh."

Well, I knew the kid was my own sweet lad

From a worn-out picture that Kanga’d had,

And I knew the bloom on his cheeks and his sparkling eye.

He was big and blond and brave and bold,

I looked and my sawdust it went cold.

And I said: "My name is 'Pooh!' How do you do!

Now you’re going to die!!"

Well, I cuffed him hard right between the eyes

And he went down, but to my surprise,

He come up with a smile and bit off a piece of my ear.

But I threw a chair: it stopped being funny

And we crashed through the wall and into the woods

Pawing and gouging in the cones and the fluff and the honey.

I tell you that I've fought tougher kids

But I really can't remember which,

He kicked like Eeyore and he stomped like a heffalump.

I heard him groan and then I heard him cuss,

He went for his popgun but I drew first,

He stood there looking at me and I felt a chump.

And he said: "Bear, childhood is rough

And if a toy's going to make it, he's got to be tough

And I knew I wouldn't be there to help along.

So I give you that name and I said goodbye

I knew you'd have to grow or die

And it's the name that helped to make you strong."

He said: "Now you just fought one heck of a fight

And I know you hate me, and you got the right

To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.

But you ought to thank me, before I die,

For the sand in your guts and the glass in your eye

Cause I'm the son-of-a-Milne that named you ‘Pooh.’

I got all fluffed up and I threw down my gun

And I called him Chris, and he called me Bear,

And I went away with different thoughts of ‘fair’.

And I picture him, as you would do,

With a Little Something for my food…

But I never go back to the dreadful place he named me ‘Pooh, ‘cos Hundred Acre Wood, I hate every inch of you.


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