Songs are in the order in which they appear in the episode.
Oh he’s a writer.
A struggling, unpublished writer
He’s waiting to hear from The New Yorker
He’s a cranky writer
First there were four, now there are five
Cal in the closet, hey it’s great to be alive
It’s great to be alive, Yeah,
It’s great to be alive,
It’s great to be, it’s great to be, it’s to be, it’s great to be, [ad infinitum]
It’s great to be alive,
It’s great to be alive
We’re on the terrace,
No walls to confine us.
My feelings are safe,
Here on the terrace.
I can voice all my deepest emotions,
and feelings… [cut off by Johnny]
Why did he read her diary,
What kind of fool, fool was he?
A twelve year old’s diary,
[shut up P.J.],
Oh so suddenly it’s my fault…
My beautiful TV,
Where have you gone?
Is there another guy turning you on?
Lovely TV out in the cold,
Never again will I vertical hold you.
Laura, I want you, I need you.
Lets get married, have children, and grow old together.
Grow arthritic, lose our teeth and break our hips together.
Fall down and die together, rot in the grave together.
It could be so nice.
Hey Johnny,
You’re a bastard for sleeping with my girl…
My name is Johnny,
I’ll take your women,
I’ll break your heart…
Iowa’s Song
This love affair, is over.
No reason to cry or moan,
This is not the kind of news you should tell on the phone.
But honey, dear, I got news to tell,
You’re going to die alone.
Die alone. Die alone. Die alone.
You’re doing to die alone.
Die alone. Die alone.
You’re doing to die alone.
All you doggies grab a tail.
Don’t you doggies leave a trail.
I’m no good at parties—
Don’t invite me, I won’t come.
You’re very nice, but keep your dollar.
I’m a very rich man’s son.
Oh yeah, I’m a very rich man’s son.
Mute muse of the underground—
At last I’ve found you.
I’d like to build an imaginary wall around you.
Farewell, my silent siren of the subways.
I was local, you express.
I was vocal, you weren’t I guess.
…They’re magically delicious!
(End of an electric performance of the Lucky Charms song)
Here we are, another Sunday morning.
And we’re eating, eating breakfast, and eating lunch.
Here’s the deal, it’s the meal that calls itself brunch--
Don’t call it leakfast or linner or deakfast or dunch.
Don’t call it supper, you’ll suffer a bunch.
Ohhh-hoooo, cause it’s brunch.
[Tess tells him that it’s not one of his better songs, and he replies that they can’t all be Put on Your Pants Cal I’m Eating.]
No songs from this episode
You made your money on Tobacco.
Four you that’s the answer,
All I see is cancer.
I want to write songs, because I’m a dreamer.
You, just give people emphasima.
Dad that’s not a knock.
Dad that’s not a slam.
I love you for you,
Please love me for who I am.
I wanna write songs.
And hear them sung.
You want people to lose a lung.
Dad that’s not a knock.
Dad that’s not a slam.
I love you for you,
Please love me for who I am.
And if you’d I approve, I’d love it.
If you don’t,
You can take your 10 G’s and…
Keep it.
Who will pull the hair out of your drain?
Who will fix a broken window pain?
I will.
Your super, your super.
Who will grout your leaky tub?
Who will kill a scary bug?
Who is that lovable lug?
It’s me your super,
Your super super.
Yeah, your super super.
Pardon me dad,
I didn’t know she was your spouse.
Oooooo if I had,
I’d have never bitten off her blouse.
I feel guilty,
But hey, who knew,
That my dads new wife,
Was a fabulous…
“Pig Sty” (TM) is a Trademark of Paramount Pictures. The layout and contents of this program guide are Copyright ©1995, 1996, Aaron Greenhouse, All Rights Reserved.
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