Neuropathic Mambo – A song by Timothy Price – Brilliant!

1Mon09a

Written to Spite the peripheral neuralgia!

Neuropathic Mambo

By Timothy Price

♫ When the legs go dancing on their own
Electric feelings shock my bones
Arms all flailing, fingers shake and role
Bumping and grinding out a neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shaking
Shocking ♫

♫ Neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ My knees get weak and start a shake
My arms go limp and then they quake
I stub my toe Ouch I’m still alive
Instead of Typing, my fingers do the hand jive ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ Neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ When the legs start dancing on their own
Electric feelings shock my bones
Arms all flailing, fingers shake and role
Bumping and grinding out a neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shaking, shocking, bumping out a mambo ♫
♫ Shaking, shocking, bumping out a neuropathic mambo
Shaking, shocking, bumping out a Neuropathic mambo
Shaking, shocking, bumping out a Neuropathic mambo! ♫

 

Here is the link to the song: Neropathetic Mambo

I Thang You.

 

 

A song composed edited and sang, by Tim in New Mexico!

A song composed, edited and sang, by Tim

A thousand thanks to WordPresser Tim did this for me, relating to my Hobbles around Nottingham. I laughed my head off, at the same time as being amazed at this surprise song.

Brilliant I thought!

Here are the lyrics, followed by the link to hear this masterpiece of wit and humour!

I wondered what each streetlight and house light might be hiding?

Inchcock’s Wonderings While Wandering

Key of C

Each morning there’s light out there,
Someone is in despair?
Someone washing his own hair?
Alcoholics here and there?

Up there, a plane in the air?
A shoplifter in his lair?
Perhaps a millionaire’s heir?
Old chap sleeps in recliner chair?

There’s a vicar with a prayer?
Someone eats a cream eclair?
Old folks playing solitaire?
Hearing burglars downstairs?

Inchock’s wonderings while he’s wandering through the many streets of Nottingham.
Streetlights shining on the sidings what do all those house lights have to hide?

Someone’s even happy somewhere?
With Cocaine a necessaire?
Street-sleeper, future billionaire?
Admits to voting for Tony Blair?

A Christian reciting the Lord’s Prayer?
Looking for a policeman full of despair?
Some of them might be out there
Taking in the night air

Someone with a cupboard bare?
Stealing cars, phones, a Frigidaire?
Some in places don’t want to be there?
Loyal abstainers or having an affair?

Inchock’s wonderings while he’s wandering through the many streets of Nottingham.
Streetlights shining on the sidings what do all those house lights have to hide?

Someone battling nasty spyware?
Someone short on his bus fare?