guitar | A Year of Songs

Don't Let Dee Dee Dog You 'Round

There were few men in town, straight or gay, who hadn’t played the fool for Dee Dee at least a couple of times.

She’d married thrice and buried three husbands by the age of 43. There wasn’t the slightest hint — or even possibility — of foul play in the deaths of her husbands — but it made you think.

Or it should have.

Still, men fell under Dee Dee’s spell. She lined ’em up and knocked ’em over and the guys just got back in line to have her do it again. Other women would watch it happen, shake their heads. Watch it happen again.

A guy would see it happen to his buddy and tell himself, well, the sucker asked for it, what do you expect, it’s Dee Dee — and then Dee Dee would turn to him with her eyes opening up like crazy, empty mineshafts and the next thing he knew he was signing over the pink slip to his F750 and borrowing against his life insurance to loan her the money for an operation for her beloved grandmother. Even though he paid for grandma’s funeral two years ago. And attended it.

Don’t Let Dee Dee Dog You ‘Round

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Monday, October 10, 2005
Friday, April 14, 2006
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lyrics
Don’t Let Dee Dee Dog You ‘Round

Don’t let Dee Dee dog you ’round
If you knew her old tricks you’d haul yer bones outta town
Let me share the wisdom that the pack has found
don’t let Dee Dee — dog you ’round

Don’t let Dee Dee dog you ’round
Don’t let Dee drag you down

You’re new round here
so let me clue you in
there’s a firestorm of trouble
you’re about to jump in
her name is Deborah Dale
won’t wanna hear that again
‘Cause Dee Dee means danger — and damnable sin

Don’t let Dee Dee dog you ’round
Don’t let Dee drag you down

We all ’round here we’ve seen it before
we pretty much know what you’ve got in store
she’ll rip out your heart and tear up your soul
there ain’t a man here in town that she can’t control
–all the same, we all love Deborah Dale

In the trailer parks
and the liquor stores
in the strip mall lounges
‘midst the strip mall mores
one light shines above all the rest
its the same flame that draws
the moths to their deaths

Don’t let Dee Dee dog you ’round
Don’t let Dee drag you down

A fool and his money are soon famous round here
and the vampires have radar for a fool full of beer
most suck out your money then they leave you alone
but Dee Dee don’t stop til she’s drained out your soul

Don’t let Dee Dee dog you ’round
Don’t let Dee drag you down

3/17/1996
(C)1996,2008, TK Major

I Can See Myself in My Guitar This is the headstock of my first guitar. Sharp-eyed comics fans will note the faded image of the Silver Surfer, which was sliced off the cover of Silver Surfer issue # 2 with an X-acto knife. This, I believe makes it the most expensive (if not valuable) guitar of its class, ever. Well… how was I to know? It was 1971 and it felt like the whole world was tipping on the edge of the apocalypse. The last thing on my mind was the future value of a comic no one else I knew had ever heard of…

But, actually, it was my third guitar (below) that was the first one I really fell in love with… a love affair that has mellowed with time but is no less deep to this day.

I Can See Myself in My Guitar That battered old Yamaha came to me at a time when I was really down. My little house had been burglarized and my big, shiny dreadnaught steel string had got sucked out into the night with 300 of my most recently played LPs, my turntable, my tape deck, a bunch of my tapes… a bummer.

I moped around for a couple weeks without a guitar, being a broke student with a couple of part time jobs. Finally one of my friends mentioned his brother in law had an old guitar he wanted to sell. I was a little let down when I heard it was a nylon string classical — the Silver Surfer guitar was a nylon guitar and it was virtually unplayable, and had a flat, lifeless sound I could never make work for anything but scratchy rhythm.

But I came over and met his brother in law, a young hippy guy. He pulled out this Yamaha G-130A classical, a little dinged, the plastic (!) varnish worn away a bit on the butt, in a cardboard case. But it had a sweet, warm tone, completely unlike the ‘Surfer. I asked him how much he wanted for it.

Thirty-five or forty, he said. I offered him $37.50, which gave him a chuckle and we shook hands.

I’ve loved that guitar ever since.