Lyrics for the Class of '57	HOME ALBUMS ANNOUNCEMENTS
The following revisions of well-known songs are an effort by Bruce Evans to pay tribute to the ‘50s, to EHS, and to members of the class of ’57. By all means, pretend it’s karaoke day at the Senior Center and sing along.

How About You? (with apologies to Ralph Freed and Burton Lane) I liked Martha Lake in June How about you? I liked how Mathis crooned How about you? I liked a pep assembly With a big game due Chocolate malts and cherry Cokes Car coats and moron jokes How about you? I thought drive-in movies a treat How about you? If, that is, viewed from the back seat How about you? I liked the Wireless And the Vodvil too Desert boots and Mary Janes Crew cuts and flowing manes How about you? I liked Cunningham’s class How about you? And giving Mase Hall sass How about you? Racing up and down 99 In a chopped Ford ‘49 Was crazy to do But I liked it How about you? I liked watching “Cheyenne” How about you? And being a Rainiers fan How about you? Packed team bus rides to Burlington Where we seldom won I’d never rue ‘Cause I liked them How about you? I liked five-cent Dentyne How about you? I liked “Life Magazine” How about you? From ’54 to ‘57 With all our hormones’ revvin’ The time just flew And I liked it How about you?	You’re the Top (with apologies to Cole Porter) You’re the top You’re “Be Bop A Lula” You’re the top You’re Proudfoot’s medulla You’ve got it made in the shade with a phosphate Coke You’re a poodle skirt A white T-shirt You’re “Gunsmoke.” You’re Sputnik You’re Art de Vos sassy You’re Lee M., with that classy chassis. I’m an Edsel junked, Gorgeous George debunked, a pegged-pants fop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top. You’re the top You’re Elgin Baylor You’re the top You’re an Airstream trailer You’re “Tutti Frutti” in a souped up Studie, Dorothy Tucker nice You’re Bazooka Joe Lovely Lillian Boe You’re fuzzy dice. You’re “Angel Eyes” You’re “My Friend Flicka” You’re an iced Colt malt liquor I‘m a TV dinner, no scholarship winner, never even learned to bop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom, You’re the top. You’re the top You’re “Mr. Sandman” You’re the top You’re “American Bandstand” You’re a ’50 Ford, leaded and lowered, a dab of Bryll Cream goop You’re “Blueberry Hill” You’re chlorophyll You’re no party poop. You’re blue suedes You’re a silver dollar You’re the pastel shade on a Peter Pan collar. I’m Geritol, Clay’s Study Hall, a lame bunny hop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top. You’re the top You’re Helga’s tresses You’re the top You’re how McAllister dresses You’re Slo-Mo’s roostertail, a proud “HonkyTonk” wail on a portable radio You’re a real blast The Liz Taylor in the cast You’re Fats Domino. You’re—like, wow, man—in fat city You’re the “Daddy-O” in a Bill Haley ditty. I’m bad news, I go ape in zoos, I need a frontal lobot But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top. You’re the top You’re Leo Lassen You’re the top You’re a T-bird passin’ You’re okey-dokey like Dick Stokke on KJR You’re a white-wall tire You’re “Great Balls of Fire” You’re a Mountain bar. You’re “Lassie” You’re the Mickey Mouse Club motto You’re the brassy sound of Perez Prado. I’m a rat fink, a greasy rink whose hair needs a lop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top. You’re the top You’re behind the green door You’re the top You’re four-on-the-floor You’re second-gear “meat,” a Wilson’s Drive-In treat, a root-beer float You’re a Bar S frank You’re a Billington prank You’re a tweed top coat. You’re the teen Canteen You’re Elvis Presley You’re an “Earth Angel” queen, all make-out nestly. I’m the “Lawrence Welk Show,” off to squaresville I go, flat as Bireley’s orange pop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top. You’re the top You’re a Hit Parade jukebox You’re the top You’re saddles and bobby sox You’re Kellogg’s Pep, a cat that’s hep with a Witte smile You’re Kjolso’s great arm Dick Engels’ charm You’re Bannister’s four-minute mile. You’re Annette Funicello You’re a Benny Bengal “rah” You’re a mellow “Shangri-la.” I’m a rubber crutch, a burned-out clutch, a gloomy Edmonds raindrop But if ‘matey I’m the bottom You’re the top.
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