One day, Mr. Story went outside to begin his day of play.

"Yes indeed," he said, "today is a day of play, I say. My story today will be all about play."

So Mr. Story went outside to play.

"Oh, what a long and arduous journey I must make today, before it is time to play. A day of hardness and longness and troubles and trials and platitudes and attitudes and latitudes and longitudes and playpens and prams–that's British for 'baby carriage'–and avocados and nectarines, and it's clearly gonna be a very, very, very hard, hard day. So many things to consider before I can go and have my fun.

"I don't even think it's very fair," said Mr. Story. "All I want is to have a very good time, and play all day in the summer sun, and sing and laugh and cry if I scrape my knee 'til Mommy puts Bactine on it and makes it all better. That's all I want, really. Why can't today be playday? Why can't every day be playday? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?"

Mr. Story lit a cigarette. He puffed and puffed, and he puffed. He went inside and puffed some more. "Now this is more like it!" Mr. Story squealed. He puffed and puffed and puffed some more until the whole house was full of smoke. He closed all the windows so the smoke could not escape.

"You're trapped, smoke!" Mr. Story shrieked with glee. "Oh boy, this is fun. Oh girl, this is fun. Oh double plow, this is fun. Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun. It's like I'm in the middle of a cloud, a great big coughing cloud that makes me cough. (Cough)," said Mr. Story. "Oh (cough) (cough), oh boy (cough), oh (cough), oh (cough), plow," he said. "What could ever be (cough) funnier–funner than this?"

"I know," said a voice from outside.

"Who's that?" said Mr. Story. "Who are you and what do you know?"

"I know what could be funner than this," said the voice. "And if you just let me in, I'll show you."

"But if I (cough) (cough) let you in," protested Mr. Story, "if I let you in all the (cough) smoke will escape, and I won't (cough) (cough) be able (cough) to cough anymore."

"Oh, you'll be able to cough more," the voice said reassuringly. "You'll cough more loudly and more often and with much more feeling than ever before, I promise. Playday will take on a whole new meaning."

"Well, okay, if you (cough) promise," said Mr. Story, and he opened up the door. All the smoke ran out quickly and giggling. Mr. Story began to cough more and more loudly and more often and with much more feeling.

"This (cough) sure is (cough) fun (cough) (cough). What a (cough) fun (cough) (cough) game we're (cough) playing (cough). I (cough) love it. What's (cough) your name?"

"I'm Mr. Emphysema," Mr. Emphysema said. "You'll cough and cough all day and night until you die every day. What do you think about that?"

"Oh boy, Mr. (cough) Emphysema!" Mr. Story exclaimed. "You're the swellest! (Cough) Now every (cough) day will (cough) be playday (cough) forever. I'm so (cough) (cough) happy. Thank you."

Lyrics submitted by Eamon

Mr. Story song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top