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To His Coy Mistress – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – TO HIS COY MISTRESS

(NOTE: This is the BUTTER BAND version of “To His Coy Mistress”, which has some interruptions and lyric changes. For the original poem by Andrew Marvell please scroll further down this page)

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.

Oh yes, my vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, much harder and slow

And it began like this
I was reflecting into my bowl of soup
At Roxy’s on the corner of Eighth Avenue
Home of the world’s greatest cheesecake
When I was suddenly overtaken by an urge
To find the world’s greatest martini
After a few hours of bewilderment
I decided to sit in the chair of contemplation
And upon contemplating I was suddenly enlightened
By the chair next to me
Why search the world over
When I had already made the world’s greatest martini

An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,

Oh yes…

But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,

I think of you and gently master****

But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

Oh yes, deserts of vast virginity

Now before there was Valentine’s Day
There was the Feast of Lupercalia
The good old days in Rome
When we would drink heavily of the finest wine
Occasionally sacrificing a dog or goat
In the evening we would chase naked virgins through the streets
Whipping them for being inconveniently pure
Ah – Old-fashioned romance: The Feast of Lupercalia

Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,

The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

We were sitting at Domingo’s with my girlfriend
Witchcraft was on Karaoke
Larry lit a blue blazer
What a sight – Oh what a sight…

Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am’rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp’d power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness,

Up unto my balls

And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Oh yes, we will make it run…

TO HIS COY MISTRESS – ORIGINAL POEM
By Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am’rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp’d power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

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More politically incorrect interruptions from the Butter Band. I like this piece because it reminds of jokes in junior high. Like the little giggles and snickers during sex education class.

And if you listen at the end of this track you’ll hear the “hidden track” from the album where I talk with the lead singer in recording studio. The idea “borrowed” from a PDQ Bach album where it starts with him saying “Ok, now you’ll erase this right? It won’t be on the album right?” and the engineer replies “No problem”.

The original title of this track on the CD was not “To His Coy Mistress” – but I titled it that to make it easier to categorize and search on this website.

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Sandal Man – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – SANDAL MAN

When you hear that funky beat
And I’m walking down the street
And the home boys start to clap
And your lady starts to snap
And your girl is hip hoppin
While my sandal’s flip floppin’

CHORUS
Well I’m the Sandal Man so quit your trippin’
I got your Mama making breakfast in my kitchen

Well I was with the cocky boys and I was kickin’ it
And this girlie said “Next to you may I sit?”
And I said “Baby don’t you know I’m straight from San Berdu?
And don’t you know I’ll do anything to be with you?”
And from that moment on I was in my Chi
From that moment on she made music with me

CHORUS

So what is the morale of the story so true?
Wickety wack take a hit and drink another brew
‘Cause that’s what the jam is sayin’
You listen to the (roll’s man) Chris is playin’
Because though I get it on til the break of break of dawn
The clothes come off but the sandals stay on

Chorus

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I recorded this band from the Southern California High Desert. A true So Cali bachelor party band. I like these lyrics because they are so absolutely cocky.

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These Two Dozen Roses – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – THESE TWO DOZEN ROSES

These two dozen roses that I tried to give
‘Cause I think about you, wanting you to live
These two dozen roses were all I had left to give

Lie into my eyes, I’ll leave (thine) all alone
Friends are the only ones that die
But I’m still locked away at home

These two dozen roses were all I had left to give
These two dozen roses, leave them lyin’ on your bed
These two dozen roses
I’m left alone

You left me standin’ in the rain
Oh in the rain, in the rain
I’m in the rain
With your two dozen roses…

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The Feast of Lupercalia CD by the Butter Band was mainly bachelor party songs – except for this one cut. I remember at the time really being moved by the vocal and lyrics. I was moved because the vocal is far from perfect, and the lyrics are also far from perfect. But there was an honesty in it that I found refreshing. I could tell the singer and writer was really telling about a very personal time and emotion.

I didn’t try to “fix” the vocal in the studio – I left it as is. It has a youthful melancholy call to my ears. But I did add some strings and woodwinds to add a little more dimension and emotion to the piece. I like the contrast of the classical strings and woodwinds in contrast to the vocal performance. To me it captures a slice of time.

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We’re On Our Own – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – WE’RE ON OUR OWN

I’m late on rent I’m low on gas
My dog got loose and spilled the trash
Neighbors always call the cops
Cause our music’s on non-stop
The bathtub has a scary stain
Dead flies in the window pane
Weeds all over the front yard
We’re two blocks from the boulevard

CHORUS
We’re on our own so we don’t care
Even though we weren’t prepared
Irresponsible is a crime
We forget our chores all the time

Holes all in the front yard hose
My cat pees on my room mate’s clothes
Dirty dishes in the sink
Light a match the bathroom stinks
Top Ramen’s our only food
Walk around the house half nude
Empty beer cans on the tv
I’m paying the bills don’t criticize me

CHORUS

Our priorities are a mess
My parents suffer from much stress
But please do not lose your mind
We’re on our own and we’ll be fine

CHORUS

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I recorded this band at the Road Records studio in Victorville, Ca. This was a very fun Southern California band to work with. I like this song from some of the descriptive lines of bachelor life.

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Ghetto Booty – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – GHETTO BOOTY

CHORUS
Ghetto booty don’t you ever let them in
Ghetto booty don’t you ever be their friends
Ghetto booty keep yourself in the clear
Ghetto booty drinking up the last of your beer

Now you know I love the ladies and I give them respect
But this song’s about the ghetto booty pain in the neck
They be comin’ to your house, knockin’ on the door
Looking for a good time and a free score
Moochin’ off your home boys they travel in packs
Always acting like they want to get in the sack

CHORUS

Don’t you ever rendezvous (with a) ghetto booty
Suck it while it dry and leave with all the looty
Now some guys don’t care ’cause they think they’ll get action
Empty pockets don’t bring no satisfaction
Don’t wanna play (or hate) do what you like
Hot waxin’ ghetto booty Martini Mike

(Bass guitar solo)

So how can you tell from a ghetto booty sneaker
From las chicas it’s a crisis (that you freaker)
Well I know a recipe so very sweet
So let me feel the love from a dope drum beat

Ghetto booty is a user abuser (beats a follow) up the sewer
Drinks the beer then she goes runs up her panty hose
(Wears the jeans) so tight even though they don’t fit right
I’m tellin’ you tellin’ you mackin’ it down
Wears the funk address when the girl’s around?
Round round around around she goes
(Step has a flatter) with the plastic nose
Ghetto booty stay away from me and my bro’s
(Two bitches in line taking curbside ho)

CHORUS

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I don’t have the lyrics in front of me and couldn’t catch them all. I put the words I couldn’t make out in parenthesis. Maybe someone else can help me make out some of those lyrics and leave it as a comment.

This was one of the Butter Band’s popular party and kegger songs.

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It’s All Good – Butter Band – Feast of Lupercalia

LYRICS – IT’S ALL GOOD

Now you told me long ago that you two were just friends
But I know you was lying way before (it to end)
I should quit laughing trying to hard to be funny
I was cramping your style I don’t make enough money

So this is a song that I wrote just for you
Even though you like the purple I’ll always wear blue

CHORUS
Cuz’ It’s all good Cuz’ I’ll always be funky
It’s all good whether it’s skinny or it’s chunky
It’s all good that I’m taking all your blame
And it’s all good cuz’ your excuses are lame

Now I’m sticking to a code that a fat boy must honor
“Respect las chicas” or a fat boy no longer
But you (assign) each other that I know for sure
But your feelings are tainted and they’ll never be true

So this is a song that I wrote just for you
Roll up my shirt sleeve and kiss my tattoo

CHORUS
Bust it

(Instrumental solos)

So you think that I’m a jerk and you think that I’m cocky
That may be true but don’t forget that I’m gawky
You’re glad you’re off the hook and you’re finally free
But I’ll catch a bigger fish, there’s plenty in the sea

So this is a song that I wrote just for you
You can have my ex-girlfriend and all that taboo

Chorus

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Butter Band was a Southern California hip hop, blues and funk group. We recorded this at the Road Records studio in Victorville, CA around 1999 (or so). This cut from their album “The Feast of Lupercalia”.

Butter Band was a fun group of college age guys that reminded me a little bit of the “Animal House” movie with Belushi.