Home > A Boatload of Boisterous VOICES, A Nightclub of Naughty VOICES > Hey! Where? Georgie Girl! by Walter Bjorkman

Hey! Where? Georgie Girl! by Walter Bjorkman


Hey! Where? Georgie Girl!

The Decade of Myth didn’t start
with the year six-oh
nor did it stop with the one
ending in six-nine
It started in sixty-three
with the death of Young John the Debaucher
and ended in seventy-four,
with Sir Dickie the Trickie’s departure
we all got that straight? – solid, man!


[In The Beginning And In The End]

I met the Fair Maiden Georgie Girl
on an Ivoryton Sixty-Nine summer night
my Boys of Summer campin’ cross the lake
as were your hippie-chicks


[Original Boys of Summer, Fantasy Hippie Chicks]

Welfare and rich, mixin’ & matchin’
in each other’s sleeping bags
thirteen year old Elke Sommer’s kid shackin’
up with the Gypsy Queen’s daughter
so we figured why not us too


[Elke Sommer, one of my kid’s Mom, Gypsy Queen, one of yours]

While my tongue was in your nethers
on that misty-meadowed night
and yours on my fair lance
I felt another on my foot
thought “How can she do that?”
I had to give a glance

In the heat of a passion
I look back and see
that a goat of the pastures
decided to make the scene

[Three’s a Crowd on My Cloud]

“Man, you know what yew got there, compadre?”
said old Ed the cook – “just one word, man
you’ll understand, she goes to the same
school as Jackie O’s kid!”


[Did Caroline Ever Eat Camp Slop?]

Your name was Georgette, your brother’s Carroll
I should’a got the clue
but we talked not of backgrounds
we just wanted to screw

That mescalined night in the pond
skinny-dippin with three others
in front of the Ivoryton post office
doin’ it in the road
an early train-spotting with cars
none came, we did

[Ivoryton Post Office, No Worry, it was after midnight]

Man – we got two days off – where we gonna’ go?
it’s the weekend of a gig on Yasgur’s Farm –
but we had not enough time for the show

Off instead to my poor man’s heaven
on the other side of the LI Sound
meeting those children of god
all going the other way

Starry, Starry Night
we slept, talked and did the nasty
where I, in innocence once
built a raft of driftwood
to take me twenty miles across
to the shore from which we ferried
escaping my Father’s demise


[Yasgur’s Farm and Sound Beach
We were only two at the beach, wonder how many made it to the farm?]

“Wake up! Wake up!”
roust the commie, preppie, philosopher, hippie and jock
I had one of each sort in my troop
Neil the Man’s about to take his midnight walk!
we herded them into the mess tent to see
the moon violated by mankind’s knee


[It Takes All Kinds watching Armstrong]

Back in the City, you One East End Ave
me from across the Gowanus
riding the subway to the stars
wondering what I was doin’

your nanny plopped with a death thud
to the floor above us
in your private-elevator duplex
as we were loving in full window view
of the 59th Street Bridge – that wasn’t groovy


[The Gowanus – Bridge Over Dirty Waters, 59th St Bridge – Feelin’ Groovy]

You off to bucolic Pine Manor in Brookline
with your mama’s Standard Oil money
me back to CCNY turmoil
in Harlem on my night cabbie’s pay
visits on weekends, further apart –
we did start to grow away

[Protected in Brookline, Protesting in Harlem]

One last stab – I your debutante escort
at your coming out debut
for the Grosvenor Ball in the Plaza
you were both loathe and loving to attend
four months after you first came with a man
or rather this boy from across the facts

Dine with a Kennedy here, a Lindsay there
under a blanket in a horse carraige ride
in Central Park, thereafter
you sneak into my room
for our last bedding


[The Poor Got Richer, if just for a day]

Remember back when we got kicked out
of that snooty Boston Common’s hotel
for me refusing to wear a tie?
you laughed all the way with me
to the cheap shack up the block

Time driftwooded on, we left each other
my only contact with your world
became the green of the bluebloods
as I ferried them around the town

We met again in seventy-four on Mass Ave
just up from the Coop
me with my Nancy girl, you with
a Japanese artist, your Yoko
spurning your parent’s wealth
he hair down to his calves

Maybe we had an effect on each other,
maybe the Sixties mattered
or maybe we were all just
Fools on the Hill


  1. deepee10
    July 14, 2010 at 10:46 am

    “we herded them into the mess tent to see
    the moon violated by mankind’s knee”..Also: very much Love! the whole goat wanting to horn in on whatever with being a goat–the living metaphor of it, the funny realization of it, and the tempo that slows but never stops to the whole thing.”..you laughed all the way with me
    to the cheap shack up the block..because the passion was what was real not the meaningless parade going on all around. Cool beans!

  2. July 14, 2010 at 2:16 pm

    This was fun, a la Kennedy and their stomping grounds, a la fave song lyrics interwoven. Fabu photots, too (“you off to bucolic Pine Manor in Brookline…” I used to live right around the corner and almost fell outta my chair when I saw the pic).

    That mescalined night in the pond — groovy. WIsh I’d written that line. Peace… (and humming hey there Georgie girl, there’s another Georgie deep inside…)

  3. July 20, 2010 at 11:01 pm

    Images and text collide in WB’s head! Marvelous, this. Fools on the hill, perhaps. But fools that make this girl think.

  4. July 27, 2010 at 4:49 pm

    Oh, I am waxing all nostalgic over this! Elke Sommer was my cousin’s classmate in Erlangen, Germany, for example, and I first got to the United States in 1968, just in time for God only knows what. Nice collage!

  5. Walter
    July 27, 2010 at 6:27 pm

    She was married to a Joe Hyams at the time, his son (her stepson) Chris Hyams was in my pack. He was one of 2 jocks. When asked what his father did he said “writes dirty books” – apparently he did write Hollywood columns and star autobiographies of the “tell all” type. Her visit on parent’s day was quite the stir.

    1968 your first year in the states!!! What an introduction!

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