[INTRODUCTION]
You know, all the great folk occupations have their heroes. Your railroad men had Casey Jones and John Henry, your lumberjacks had Paul Bunyan and his blue ox babe, right on down the line
And if you will remember, not too long ago here, your coal miners had Big Bad John. But what about your less dangerous occupations? What about people like, well, like your teabag testers and your certified public accountants
Just because a man doesn't work at a dangerous back-breaking occupation there's no reason he should be slighted by the folk art, so I'm going to sing you a little song about a fella whose name was Sidney
He was a hairdresser, and in his own way he was just as courageous, just as heroic, as Big Bad John
[BEGINNING]
Every morning at the salon you can see him arrive
Five foot six, weighing 105
Narrow at the shoulders and broad at the hips
With a delicate smile on his painted lips
Sweet Sidney
Nobody knew where Sid called home
Had a place on Fire Island where he lived alone
A likeable fellow, though kind of quiet and shy
And if he spoke at all, he just said
"Hi, sweetie!"
Some say he came from New Orleans
Where he headed a social club called the Cajun Queens
Though to tell you the truth, it was Beverly Hills
Where he got into trouble, pa**ing three dollar bills
Naughty Sidney!
Desperate little outlaw!
One day at the beauty shop
There was a dreadful fire
They had a short circuit in #4 dryer
And amidst the screams of those frantic dames
In swished Sidney to fan the flames!
Sweet Sid...
He got them all out as the fire got worse
But someone heard him gasp, "I've forgotten my purse!"
He rushed back in with a fitful shout
And all was quiet and he never came out
Poor Sidney
Brave, valiant, heroic Sidney!
Precious little firefighter
That beauty salon is now a parking lot
But the legend of our hero will not be forgot
For deep in the hearts of coiffured dames
Will be the memory of Sidney going down... In flames