The Land of Sandra Dee

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot,
Before the days of Dylan or the dawn of Camelot.
There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me,
Long ago and far away...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Oh, there was truth and goodness in that land where we were born,
Where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.
For Ike was in the White House, and Hoss was on TV,
And God was in his heaven...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We washed our hair at dawn. We spread our crinolines to dry
In circles on the lawn. They all could hear us coming
All the way to Tennessee, all starched and
Sprayed and rustling...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We longed for love and romance, and waited for the prince,
Then Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.
We danced to "Little Darlin'", and Sang to "Stagger Lee"
We cried for Buddy Holly...In the Land of Sandra Lee.
Only girls wore earrings then, and three was one too many,
When only guys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.
And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see
A boy named George with Lipstick...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice,
And when they made a movie, they never made it twice.
We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three,
Or Rocky-Rambo Twenty...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp,
And Reagan was a Democrat, whose co-star was a chimp.
We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T,
And Oprah couldn't talk yet...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go,
At least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.
For youth was still eternal, our life was yet to be,
And Elvis was forever...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead,
And Airplanes weren't named Jefferson and Zeppelins weren't Led.
Beatles lived in gardens then and Monkees in a tree,
And Madonna was a virgin...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We'd never heard of Microwaves, or telephones in cars,
And babies might be bottle-fed, but they sure weren't "grown" in jars.
Pumping iron got wrinkles out, and "gay" meant fancy-free,
But dorms were never coed...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,
And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.
Hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,
And our rocket ships were fiction...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
Buicks came with portholes, and side show came with freaks,
And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.
Coke came just in bottles, and skirts came to the knee,
As Castro came to power...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,
We all wore superstructure bras designed by Howard Hughes.
We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea
Or prime-time ads for condoms...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
There were no golden arches, no Perriers to chill,
Our fish were not called Wanda, and cats were not called Bill.
Middle-age was thirty-five and old was forty-three,
And ancient were our parents...In the Land of Sandra Dee.
But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say,
And now instead of Maybelline, we swear by Retin-A.
And they send us invitations to join AARP,
We've come a long way, baby...From the Land of Sandra Dee.
So now we face a brave new world in "slightly" larger jeans,
And we wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines.
We tell our children's children of the way it used to be,
Long ago and far away...In the Land of Sandra Dee.