The Sands of Time for Halloween have run low. And with those last few grains of October come the end of yet another year of Buttkickin’ Halloween Songs. And this makes us at Hokeyblog very, very sad. But it’s one been (pardon the overuse) one BUTTKICKIN’ year for us. We got to feature more songs…
Baby, baby, let’s make romance You know your old-time lover hasn’t got a chance He’s stranded in the jungle, as mad as he can be So come on pretty baby, just you and me An’ meanwhile, back in the jungle… This is really all Howard Stern’s fault. Or rather, that of his father, Ben Stern.…
You’d poison a blind man’s dog and steal his cane You’d gift wrap a leper and mail him to your Aunt Jane You’d even force-feed a diabetic a candy cane! You can go to Hell… I told you I’d be back with some more Alice Cooper. And an even better song too. Go To Hell…
Nebel zieht in dichten Schwaden übers Moor von Forrest Hill, grün-gespenstig grinst ein Irrlicht, es ist Nacht in Baskerville. Fog draws in dense swaths over the moor of Forrest Hill, a will-o’-the-wisp grins green and ghostly, it is night in Baskerville…. This is like a Hammer horror film come to life… Accuse me of including…
Did the devil make the world while God was sleeping Someone said you’ll never get a wish from a bone Another wrong goodbye and a hundred sailors That deep blue sky is my home… Tom Waits… man. With his inimitable vocal stylings, you could go with any one of a zillion of his songs and…
One fine day in Hell The master told a story Someone lied so well He sent him back to Glory… You know what, I could do an entire Halloween playlist featuring nothing but Ronnie James Dio songs, and it would obliterate the cosmos with its iron-forged metal majesty. Even sinners must dream. Alas Babylon… well…
Then she looked up at her daddy and me And said somethin’ that broke both our hearts She said, “When I die, please don’t bury me ‘Cause Jeannie’s afraid of the dark”… What the freakin’ what… Fear of the dark taps into the primal essence of terror, and if the billion-dollar-a-year nightlight industry doesn’t convince…
Box of balloons With the feather-light touch Pack of party-poppers That pop in the night A toothbrush and hairspray Plastic grin Miss Clay on all corners Has just walked in… OK yes, strictly speaking, a young boy who turns 16 and thus reaches the UK age of consent and is off to buy some prophylactics…
Come little daughter, I said to the youngest one Put your coat on, we’ll have some fun We’ll go out to mountains, the one to explore Her face then lit up, I was standing by the door… This one is disturbing as Hell. Country Death Song, the lead-off track from Violent Femmes’s 1984 album Hallowed…
Look, he’s crawling up my wall Black and hairy, very small Now he’s up above my head Hanging by a little thread Boris the spider… So picture it: Joe Robbie Stadium in Miami, Florida, July of 1989, and your intrepid narrator is 18 years old and baked out of his gourd while attending a Who…