American Mork
© Surazeus
A long, long time ago
I can still remember how
that laughter used to make me howl,
and I knew if I had my chance
that I could make those people laugh
and maybe they'd be happy for a while.
But August made me tremble
with every webpage I'd dissemble.
Bad news on the internet.
I couldn't click one more page.
I can't remember if I cried
when I read about his widowed bride,
but something touched me deep inside
the day the laughter died.
So bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
Did you prance on the stage of jokes,
and do you have faith in good-old blokes
if the television tells you so?
Now do you believe in Comedy?
Can laughter save your mortal soul,
and can you teach me how to crack a quip?
Well, I know that you're in love with him
cause I saw you laughing at his jokes.
You both kicked off your pants.
Man, I dig those mocking rants.
I saw him land in a smoking egg,
and walk with Mindy on the road of hope,
but I knew I was out of dope
the day the laughter died.
I started singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
Now for forty years we've heard his jokes
and watched him play lost befuddled blokes
who teach us how to seize the day,
when the jester played for the audience
in a hat he borrowed from sad Pierrot
and a voice that came from you and me.
Oh, and while the clown was mocking fools
the jester stole his polished tools.
The theater was deceived.
No paycheck was received.
And while Popeye ate from his spinach can
a lost knight searched for the Holy Grail,
and we cracked jokes in Neverland
the day the laughter died.
We were singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
Helter Skelter in San Francisco.
Salvation in the world according to Garp,
dancing wild in Moscow on the Hudson.
He exclaims, good morning, Vietnam,
lost on adventures with Baron Munchausen,
then escapes back to Neverland.
Now he stands on a desk in a private school,
shouting loud his bold barbaric yawp
over the rooftops of normalcy,
then joins the Dead Poets Society.
Because the Fisher King tried to steal his soul,
and Peter Pan soared to the twinkling star,
but the fool got lost in his flying ship
the day the laughter died.
We started singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
Oh, and there we were all in his world,
a generation laughing at absurdity
with no time left to start again.
So come on, Robin be nimble, Robin be quick,
Robin Williams sat high on his head
because joy is the Joker's only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
I clapped to praise that hysterical sage.
No accountant born in the Bank
could break that Bacchus' rant.
And as the spotlights beamed into the night
to light the sacrificial rite
I saw Bacchus riffing with delight
the day the laughter died.
He was singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
I met a boy who cracked wild jokes,
and I asked him for another riff,
but he just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the smoky night club
where I'd heard his diatribe years before,
but the man there said the laughter wouldn't sting.
And in the streets, the children screamed,
the lovers cried and the poets dreamed,
but not a joke was spoken.
The microphones all were broken.
And the comedian I admire most,
the Genie, Mork, and wild Peter Pan,
he caught the last ship for the stars
the day the laughter died.
And he was singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
We are singing, bye-bye, Mister American Mork.
I flew my egg-ship to Planet Ork,
but the planet was gone,
and them good old boys
were smoking MaryJane joints,
singing, "This'll be the day that I laugh.
This'll be the day that I laugh."
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