Chris Smith - Turnips (
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For #Week44 of my #52Songs52Weeks songwriting challenge my assignment was to write a song about change. So I wrote a song called #Turnips. Because who doesn’t think of turnips when you think of change. But on a serious note, this song is about everyone’s innate desire to change someone. There’s a southern saying, you can’t squeeze blood from a turnip. That means you can’t get something from someone that doesn’t have it to give, or is unwilling to give it. This is the crux of the entire song. I took an intentional Kasey Musgraves feel in both melody and concept in that I didn’t want to place any blame on the people trying to change people or the people refusing to change. I simply just wanted to offer some social commentary on the process. Besides, chances are at some point we have all played both roles at some point in our life. So my lines in the chorus “Here’s to the mules that ain’t moving. And here’s to the one’s wishing they were,” is a salute to everyone out there doing the best they can do. As always, the lyrics are in the YouTube description. Be sure to check out the little blooper at the end. If you enjoy the song, please consider taking a quick second to leave a YouTube comment or give the video a share. It means a lot! Thanks y’all!
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Chris Smith – Turnips
She’s starting something new
She’s wearing something blue
She’s getting on with her life
He’s still singin’ his songs
But no one sings along
He’ll spend his life wonderin’ why
Well oil and water don’t mix
You’ll find that out pretty damn quick
You might lead a mule to a spring
But you can’t make a stubborn ass drink
Here’s to the one’s squeezing turnips
Trying to bleed them for all that their worth
And here’s to the mules that ain’t moving
And here’s to one’s, wishing they were
We all want some change
When we don’t get our way
If you say that you don’t, than you lie
But you can’t change someone
Who’s just looking for fun
But bless your heart if you give it a try
Well oil and water don’t mix
You’ll find that out pretty damn quick
You might lead a mule to a spring
But you can’t make a stubborn ass drink
Oh here’s to the one’s squeezing turnips
Trying to bleed them for all that their worth
And here’s to the mules that ain’t moving
And here’s to one’s, wishing they were
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