Tag Archives: song-writing

Franny the Fish (a love song)

FRANNY THE FISH by Laura Munson

(Written when I was 24 years old. Living in Seattle. Upon the occasion of my goldfish, Franny’s, impending death.)

Goes a little something like this: (finger picked. Melancholy. A bit of schtick, but not too much.  Think “tortured” artist.  I used to sing this to my kids until they were old enough to say, “ENOUGH!  STOP THE INSANITY.”  Enjoy.)

 

Cmaj7

I’m just sitting here

Am

Watching my goldfish die

Am7                                     D

Sipping on a nice cold beer.

 

Cmaj7

Now she lies upon her side,

Am

At the top of her fish bowl

Am7                                                       G

Screaming silent pleas to a phony tide.

 

D                   G

Poor Franny

D                                                    G

Fighting for the life inside a bowl

D                                                     G

Maybe if you let yourself slip over

D7                                                      G

You’ll find your very pretty fish soul.

 

D                                               G

Not to say that your life is over

D                                                     G

But I must admit it looks pretty grim

D                                                                     G

When you’re floating sideways on the water

D7                                                     G

And it’s all that you can do to swim.

 

Cmaj7

Suddenly she sees herself

Am

In the glass, her eyes half mast

Am7                                                        D

And flaps a prideful fin in token health.

 

Cmaj7

Oh I could tap to show I’m here

Am

Oh Franny I’m sorry

Am7                                                             G

That I am just another outside force of fear.

 

D                                                             G

Frankly I must tell you one thing darlin’

D                                                  G

There’s no point in being a heroine

D                                                              G

You’re not salmon whale or even marlin

D7                                                                         G

You’re a bourgeois fish outside your bowl or in.

 

D                                                                           G

So with these last mournful chords I leave you

D                                                    G

Then a tear and a prayerful hush

D                                                                         G

I’ll scoop you up and help you to the next life

D7                                                  G

Drop you in the toilet…and flush.

 

D                                                            G

Oh a eulogy for you my dear fish Franny.

D                                                                G

Your plight seems like my own dim destiny

D                                                                         G

But instead of going with you down the sewer

D7                                                    G  (big finish!)

I go three times a week for therapy!

 

(…and  just as I was about to flush her, she sprang alive and lived another six months. Zooey didn’t last very long after her parting, his heart being broken.)

 

 

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