Song Lyric Sunday : food

The theme for Song Lyric Sunday this time is, naturally, food. My choice is Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream" from her 1993 smash album "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy." 

I have a quite ginormous desk with lots of shelves and stuff and one feature is a couple of small racks for cd's that hold about a dozen each. Out of those few--which include a lot of modern swing, a couple of Belle & Sebastian, and some crooners like Sinatra, Peter Cincotti and James Darren--there are two Sarah McLachlan including this one. All these are close at hand because, although I have a large music collection, these are my go-to's. 

Sarah wrote "Ice Cream" as well as all the other tracks on "Ecstasy" except one, though my source for the lyrics erroneously gives credit to someone else. I love how sensual the song is, and how it contrasts this love with how "everyone here knows how to cry." I'll take two scoops please.

Lyrics, by Sarah McLachlan:

Ice Cream

Sarah McLachlan

Your love
Is better than ice cream.
Better than anything else that I've tried
And your love
Is better than ice cream
Everyone here knows how to cry

And it's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way
Down to the place where we started from.

Your love
Is better than chocolate
Better than anything else that I've tried
And oh love is better than chocolate.
Everyone here knows how to fight

And it's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way
Down to the place where we started from.

https://jimadamsauthordotcom.wordpress.com/2019/11/23/no-other-holiday-tops-thanksgiving/

Doggerel In Dog Years

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard
to do some emotional eating
because her heart may be famous but it isn't the same as
one loved face, and besides, fame is fleeting.

When she got there, the cupboard was bare,
as was her hope chest, her basement and her attic
because translations are poems whose language is frayed
and the local station only plays jingles and static.

Swing low, sweet Fido,
and give a girl a kiss when she needs one
because the ghosts don't care when she puts it all out there,
still she knows a friend in need when she sees one.

Four and twenty Milk Bones baked into a pie
and a pint of mint chocolate chip by silver spoon
cannot assuage the way a girl feels sometimes
but we can dream of running beneath a sweeter faster moon

through the kind of night where our love is coming home
under expansive easy stars and southern skies.
______

because I was missing someone.

image at top by Edward Gorey.  

Happy Birthday....

...to me.