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You're The Only One Who Thinks You're Funny - credits and lyrics

CD Cover

Songs

1.  Bennington, Vermont

2.  Danko

3.  Farmhouse In Provence

4.  First World Tragic Romance

5.  Forty-Four

6.  Gerte’s Waltz

7.  My Hernia

8.  Natural Treasure

9.  New You In Town

10. People Like Me

11. Refugee’s Lament

12. Substitute

13. Suburban Whitebread Blues

14. Sweet Little Sister-In-Law

15. Top Of The Mountain

16. The United States

17. Way Across Town

Credits

All Songs written by Greg Van Houten. All rights reserved. 

Recorded at Akin Studios, Bally's Atlantic City and Greg’s House.

© 2019 Pudgy Dutchman Records, 

Engineered and Produced by Sam Clement and Adam Turner



Greg Van Houten: Guitar,  Vocals,

    Harpsichord (Way Across Town), Violin (New You In Town)

The Akin Heart Band:

Sam Clement: Guitar, Bass, Vocals, Kazoo

Adam Turner: Percussion, Vocals, Kazoo

Chris Ivory: Hammond Organ, Piano

Hillary Chase: Vocals, Kazoo

Dave Lawlor: Mandolin

Eric Schatz: Harmonica

Krista Speroni: Accordian

Cindy Baxter: Vocals

Beq Lendvay: Trombone (The United States)

Michelle Marracco: Violin (Gerte's Waltz)

Matt Slocum: Banjo (My Hernia)

Lyrics

Bennington, Vermont

  

Bennington, Vermont is hard to describe

In three or four verses, but I’m going to try,

To tell you ‘bout a place that you ought to know.

If you haven’t been there then you ought to go.


For over two hundred and fifty years,

The heart of the Vermont has been right here,

From the Catamount Tavern to the Four Corners Clock,

From the Robert Frost Trail to the Putnam Block. 


Stand atop of our The Monument tall,

In any direction you take in all,

Of the beauty of this magnificent land.

If divided we fall, then united we stand!


Television says the economy's dead,

In Bennington, Vermont we’re moving ahead.

If you want to succeed then you've got to believe,

In Bennington. Vermont you’ll see what I mean.


Our industry’s growing and people are stoked,

The Downtown is jumping and that’s no joke.

I’m beating the drum and drinking the Kool Aid.

We’re Bennington, Vermont and we’re American made!

Bennington, Vermont

Bennington, Vermont

Be anything you want,

In Bennington, Vermont


Danko

When you see him in those pictures,

He looks like a little boy. 

He was known as much for his childish smile

As he was for his velvet voice.

His penchant for drugs and alcohol

Hardly made him unique in his day,

And he wasn’t the first,

And he won’t be the last,

To quietly slip away.


In his blue jeans and his T-shirt,

He was just a regular guy,

Trying to live an impossible life

With the spot light right in his eyes

They even gave it up for a while,

But it’s all they know how to do,

They’d lost some friends,

Then Richard was gone,

It’s not like he never knew.


Well I can’t say that I knew him.

The fact is we never had met,

But I saw once at Carnegie Hall

On a night I will never forget.

He was by himself, on the stage

Just his voice and his guitar

You stand alone with a microphone

You learn a lot about who you are


And it makes no difference where I turn

Or how far I roam

The music that he left behind

Is the best I’ve ever known.

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Farmhouse In Provence

It’s nothing new to tell you, 

she stole my heart away, 

But I was unprepared for what happened yesterday 

I caught her from across the room lost in a trance, 

Staring, gazing, dreaming in the Farmhouse in Provence.   


She has an eye for beauty, it lives within her soul 

She knows it when she sees it, but it takes a little toll. 

Her eyes will well with tears, and her heart will do a dance. 

I could see that this was happening in the Farmhouse in Provence.   


Cypress trees and wheat fields, And wispy aqua skies, 

Were twirling everywhere we looked that day. 

But something drew her in that house, 

And only she knows why, 

And what it was that Vincent had to say.    


It’s startling to see the one you love. 

Framed within the brush strokes of Van Gogh. 

She turned away and cast a final glance, 

As she walked out of The Farmhouse in Provence.   


The memories she leaves me are more than I deserve. 

Images to treasure deep in my mind’s reserve.

In hopes that down the road someday I might just have a chance, 

To take her, once again, to see The Farmhouse in Provence.

GVH at The George Jones, Nashville, TN

First World Tragic Romance

The silence in this house keeps getting louder,

The things that we don’t say cause the most pain.

We walk on eggs and always keep our distance,

I can’t remember the last time you called my name.


Dinner was a time to share our secrets,

Now it’s serve your self and ‘Nevermind.’

Bedtime was when showed our feelings,

Now we lie awake with all this on our minds.


We used to sing together with Mark and EmmyLou,

We knew our love would stand the test of time.

Now, your upstairs doing Yoga with Alanis Morrissette,

And I’m down in the cellar,

Drinking with John Prine.


So, I work late, but I’m not really working.

You’re cleaning stuff that already too clean.

We’re acting out our first world tragic romance,

But no one wants to write the final scene.


We used to sing together with Mark and EmmyLou,

We knew our love would stand the test of time.

Now, your upstairs doing Yoga with Alanis Morrissette,

And I’m down in the basement,

Drinking with John Prine.


Got my guitar in the basement 

and I’m drinking with John Prine 

image2

Forty-Four


When I was a boy I did what I was told
Most of the time,But that got old.
I don’t do what anyone says no more.
I call my own shots, now  'cause I’m forty-four.
I worked a job for a long, long time
Yes’n the boss man and towing the line.
I don’t have to punch that clock no more.
I work for myself ‘cause I’m forty-four.


I got married and I was no kid.
I knew what I wanted and I know what I did.
That marriage got all fucked up for sure.
I’m living alone, now, and I’m forty-four.


I had a house, I liked a lot.
Full of all kinds of nice stuff we got.
That stuff’s in the house and I’m out the door,
I’ve got posters on the wall and I’m forty-four.


I look around and I’ve got lots of friends,
But none of them have much time to spend.
They’re busy with kids or doing their chores,
I play lots of golf ‘cause I’m forty-four.


I try to budget and pay all my bills,
But I get so bored it would give you the chills.
So I bought enough shit to put the Who on tour,
I’ve got nine guitars and I’m forty-four.
I’ve got nine guitars and I might buy some more.

Gerte's Waltz

The moths crowd the light on a warm Catskill night,

As I pull the latch on the door.

My Gerte’s asleep, so softly I creep,

Like ten thousand nights before.


I check the TV and they’re telling me,

The economy’s not doing great.

We haven’t made scratch here since seventy-nine,

What do we know of two thousand, eight?


Last summer the storm took the bridge out,

The winter passed with no snow.

We’ve been in arrears for thirty-five years,

Where the Hell else are we going to go?


Back in the day the orchestra played,

Our guests would pour down the stairs.

Gerte would stand right next to the band,

The music would fill her like air.


Sometimes I catch her at cleaning,

She’ll step back and twirl right around.

I know every song she is dreaming, 

But I watch her and don’t make a sound.


I crawl into bed, kiss my Gerte on the head,

And settle back in for the night.

Bless this old girl, she’s been my whole world,

She tells me it will be all right.


I try not to think of the future, 

Of what will be left for our son.

Gerte will wake us at daybreak, 

And remind us there’s work to be done

My Hernia

Just above my Willie, I found a little lump.

It sticks out when I pick things up and when I take a dump. 

I showed it to my doctor, he shouted out with glee,

“You’ve got yourself a hernia, it’s off to surgery!”


He sent me to a surgeon to get another take. 

He put his hand up to his chin and gave his head a shake.

He said, “I’ll have to operate.” ‘Cause that’s what surgeons do.

“And when I fix your hernia, you’ll be as good as new.”


Now, hernia’s are something that lots of people get,

They come from heavy lifting and sometimes crazy sex. 

It can start when you’re an infant unbeknownst to you,

Something makes the small intestine tear it's way right through.


“We’ll go in at the navel, and through the stomach wall. 

My tiny little endoscope will televise it all.

We'll wind through the intestines and come in from behind. 

With Kevlar and Titanium, your hernia I’ll bind.” 


In three weeks time I’ll be back, dancing on my toes. 

That patch will still be holding when I start to decompose.

I'm so happy I've got Kevlar sewn inside my guts,

Just in case I ever take a bullet in the ...


Hernia’s are something that lots of people get,

They come from heavy lifting and sometimes crazy sex. 

It’s starts when you’re an infant unbeknownst to you,

Something makes the small intestine tear it's way right through.

Natural Treasure

When I tell you she’s beautiful, I’m just getting started. 

She’s a natural treasure, placed in my care.

Like any great gift, that’s been put here by angels.

Take her for granted she’ll be gone like thin air.


Like a ribbon of water that shimmers in Moon light,

Like the snow on a glacier, or the grass on the dunes,

Like a mountain top tree line across a red Sunset,

She’s a firefly hatch in the middle of June. 


Try, try, try as I may, 

I cannot explain 

What brought her my way. 

I am clear, clear, clear in my part; 

Love and  protect her, 

With all of my heart. 


Her laugh is the rain on a parched western wheat field,

Her smile brings summer to the frozen north face.

Her eyes hold the hope of a new generation,

And the world is at peace when I’m in her embrace.


She walks through the door like the Sun through a rainstorm.

She speaks to my soul like a bird on the wing.

She eases my mind like a wind on the prairie.

Her touch is the dew on the first rose of spring.


Try, try, try as I may,

I cannot explain 

What brought her my way.

I am clear, clear, clear in my part;

Love and  protect her,

With all of my heart. 


When I tell you she’s beautiful, I’m just getting started…

New You In Town

‘You’ were the one

Who left my life a shamble.

You were the one who took me down. 

You were the only one I ever talked about,

But lately, there’s a new you in town. 


‘You’ was the word

I used to name my pain.

You were the one who could make me go insane.

You had a way to turn a smile into a frown.

But lately, there’s a new you in town.


‘You’ has a meaning

That’s different to me now.

You are the one who came to show me how.

You give me purpose

Like a circus does a clown.

Lately, there’s a new you in town.


Finally, there’s a new you in town.

People Like Me

There are people in the world who are happy,

The have someone who loves them, you see.

There are people in the world who are lonely,

Yes, there are lots of people like me.


Once, I knew what it meant to be happy.

I had a love I could call my own.

I will never forget that mournful day,

When I found my love was gone.


There are people in the world who are happy,

The have someone who loves them, you see.

There are people who will spend all their natural born days,

Dying in this misery.


If you have somebody who loves you,

And you know that you love them, too,

Then take heed of all of these things that I say,

Don’t let your true love slip away.


There are people in the world who are happy,

The have someone who loves them, you see.

There are people who took love for granted,

Yes, there are lots of people like me.

Remote recording made on Spire Studio

Refugee's Lament

You say you all just crawled, Half way around the world,

With your wife and son, and your little baby girl.

You’ve only the clothes your wear, some old photographs,

A crumpled up PhD, and your memories.


What do you want from us? A chance for a better day?

That may seem easy here? Well, it’s not that way.


The rich folks robbed us, about ten years ago.

It makes this freedom thing, a little tough, you know.

It’s damn near impossible, just to stay afloat.

Then big pharma drugged us, and that was all she wrote.


Our roads are crumbling, our schools a mess.

Our country is broken, I must confess.


Your eyes are focused. Your will still strong.

Are you not listening, to what is wrong?

You call this ‘Paradise.’ You won’t turn back.

Perhaps your spirit, is what we lack.


There is a power, I can’t deny.

Hell, we were born here. We didn’t have to try.


You say you all just crawled, Half way around the world.

Just to save your boy, and your little girl…

Substitute

There’s a substitute for coffee, There’s a substitute for tea,

But there is just no substitute for what you do to me.

They’ve got a substitute for everything beneath the stars above,

But there is just no suitable - substitute for love.


They put a man up on the moon and brought him back, again,

But they can’t figure what it is that women do to men,

They’ve got a substitute for gasoline and a substitute for oil,

But not that thing that makes you want to flee your mortal coil.


Love can make you gamble, it can turn a man to drink.

It makes it hard to sleep at night. It makes it hard to think.

The minute that you fall in love you think your trouble’s done,

But try to find a substitute, and your trouble’s just begun.


There’s a substitute for Sunshine, there’s a substitute for rain.

They’ve even got machines now that can substitute your brain,

But when I’m on the edge, my friend, and just abut to crack,

She knows that there’s no substitute, and I’ll come crawling back.


Love can make you gamble, it can turn a man to drink.

It makes it hard to sleep at night, impossible to think.

The minute that you fall in love you think your trouble’s done,

But try to find a substitute, and your trouble’s just begun.


Love will make you walk the streets and stay out all night long.

It can make a man half crazy; curse the day that he was born.

Now, I don’t paint a pretty picture of what love has in store,

But I assure you there’s no substitute, and you’ll be back for more.

Suburban White-bread Blues

I was born in a hospital, raised by a stay at home mom.

I was born in a hospital, raised by a stay at home mom.

Every night at six o’clock, 

Right through the door walked Tom. (that’s my daddy) 


Every morning we would take the bus, ‘cross town to a private school.

Every morning we would take the bus, ‘cross town to a private school.

I guess I could have gone to public,

But mama wouldn't raise no fool.


We never had no sandbox, just a couple swings out back.

We never had no sandbox, just a couple swings out back.

We played little league and football,

My brother, he ran track. (we thought he was a sissy)


Every Summer was the same thing, we’d move up to the lake.

Every Summer was the same thing, we’d move up to the lake.

We'd go swimming and canoeing,

My sister’d lay in the Sun and bake. (bake it baby)


I was born in a hospital, raised by a stay at home mom.

I was born in a hospital, raised by a stay at home mom.

Every night at six o’clock, 

Right through the door came Tom. (Hello,daddy!) 

Sweet Little Sister-In-Law

She's the prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi,

Crystal eyes, the likes you never saw,

If she didn't think I's a worthless bum

I'd have a better shot than some,

She's my sweet, sweet, little sister in law.


I already know an awful lot about her,

The kind of things she likes and where she's from.

I'm pretty good friends with her brother,

Her mother and her sister and her pa,

She's my sweet, sweet, sweet little sister-in-law.


She's got qualities you might not see the first time, 

And other things that stick out right away,

To know her you can't hardly help but love her,

So it's natural for a man to feel this way.


Now some folks might be just a bit offended,

That I would bring this subject up at all.

But it's okay, I've done some reading,

It's not incest it's just cheating.

She's my sweet, sweet, sweet little sister-in-law.

She's my sweet, sweet, sweet little sister-in-law.

Heck, if we were in Utah, I could have married them all!

Top Of The Mountain

I have been to the top of the mountain,

I have seen all there is to be seen

I have stood at the top of the mountain

And the view is quite hard to believe.


When you stand at the top of the mountain,

And you take in the world from afar,

You can see from the top of the mountain

How close to each other we are.


The grass from the top of the mountain,

Is green no matter which way you look,

And the air at the top of the mountain,

Is as sweet as the first breath you took.


There’s no war at the top of the mountain,

And you can’t see the color of skin, 

For the light at the top of the mountain

Is a light that burns from within.


There’s a God at the top of the mountain,

But he wears no colors or sword.

And he speaks from the top of the mountain,

And love rings in his every word.


I have been to the top of the mountain,

I have seen all there is to be seen

I have stood at the top of the mountain

And I hope you will walk there with me.  

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The United States

She sleeps all alone  

At a dock in Old Philadelphia. 

Waiting for someone to strike up the band,  

Fill the dance floor, 

And light up the grand chandelier. 


Her rusty old stacks 

Still bare the paint, from the days when she sailed the great seas.

Across her broad stern, 

Emblazoned in white,

Her name still inspiring to read. 


She is the S. S. United States, 

The pride of the American Fleet. 

She traversed the Atlantic 800 times, 

With elegance, grandeur and speed. 

She is the S. S. United States,

Trying to find her way home.

Forty years dodging the scrap dealer’s torch,

Awaiting a verdict unknown.


Casting her shadow 

On crusty old ships under a maudlin sky,

A page of our history,

Yearns to be saved,

More threatened as time passes by.


Refugees and Nobles, 

Graced her decks and staterooms alike.

She delivered them all, 

At Blue Ribband pace,

In safety by day and by night. 


And now, time begs the question, 

‘Do we watch as she just drifts away?’ 

When tomorrow dawns and the great ship is gone, 

Will we pang that she should have been saved?  


She is the S. S. United States,

The pride of the American Fleet.

She traversed the Atlantic 800 times,

With elegance, grandeur and speed.

She is the S. S. United States,

A lady in waiting it’s said.

In the gleaming of twighlight, on waters uncertain,

Her greatest feat still ahead.  

Way Across Town

I’m four years old,

And I don’t know diddly squat,

But I know my family,

Is about all I’ve got.

I don’t know why,

I live with my mom,

And my dad,

Lives by himself,

In a house,

That’s way across town.


Way across town,

I go there weekends,

Way across town,

They’re hardly speaking.

When they leave me,

I have to kiss them,

But they don’t kiss each other, anymore.


My dad’s new friend,

I guess she’s OK.

She buys me stuff,

Like on my birthday.

I told my mom,

I think she’d like her,

But she’s never at my dad’s,

When mom comes around.


Way across town,

I go there weekends,

Way across town,

They’re hardly speaking.

When they leave me,

I have to kiss them,

But they don’t kiss each other, anymore

No, they don’t kiss each other,

Way Across town,

All Songs written by Greg Van Houten. All rights reserved.