Hey Yolanda
Hey Yolanda, how about a roll in the hay?
I’ve got some dread disease, but say...
Nobody’s perfect
Hey Yolanda, how about a romp in the sack?
Maybe we could do it in back of my Suburu
Do it on the corner, do it on the rocks
Do it on the street, do it on the docks
It don’t matter how we get to it...
Just so we get on down and we do it
Hey Yolanda, we can light it up in the dark
Passion on a bench in the park
Making memories
Ya know I get so frisky
Plain old sex will never do
They’re gonna have to find
A new kind of medical term
For what I want to do with you
Hey Yolanda, hey Yolanda
Nothing spells lovin' like something in the oven
Makin' bacon in the kitchen with you
©1995 Glen F. Nemeth • All Rights Reserved
OK, it's no masterpiece. But I was writing and singing so many sad, depressing
ballads, I just needed to lighten up, and this was the result.
People really liked it for some twisted reason. Whenever I
performed on stage, I would stick it in between the unrequited love songs
and the divorce-inspired ballads.
I actually knew someone by that name, a co-worker who frequently
preached the Gospel during lunch breaks. She never heard the song, but I
often fantasized about her reaction.
— Glen
Hey Yolande