Scratch a poet, find a frustrated musician. After all, there is a lot more recompense in music than there is in poetry. Therefore, it should come as no surprise to see any poet (or, in my case, alleged poet) turn his hand to anything remotely resembling what H. L. Mencken used to refer to as "the Tone Art." Perhaps the segue is not as far-fetched as it might seem; an old crossword puzzle dictionary that I keep under my pillow, instead of a picture of my girlfriend (she categorically refuses to appear in any of my writings-oops, I did it again ), defines the word "scop" as "an Anglo-Saxon bard or minstrel." And even without the use of scopolamine, I would have to be a bard-faced liar to claim any musical ability suitable for public dysfunction . sorry . consumption. I have a loophole, though-I always had a taste for parody, where you can cheat a little in the service of humor ("straight" musicians, especially singers, who cheat are customarily referred to as "stylists" in the trade) and that is where this book comes in. (I "cheat" a good deal in this volume myself.) You might say I am channeling Allan Sherman here, and with good reason, he was (during my preschool days) my first mileage marker on the way to whatever cultural understanding I may have accumulated. With that in mind, this book is dedicated to his memory. You'd best keep that in mind if you start singing these for yourself.