The wrinkle variety

The wrinkle variety (gedeelte)

Zang: Alice Altink
Drums: Rob van den Oever
Bass: Wilbert de Gooijer
Toetsen: Geert Bremer
Djembé: Sebastiaan Kaptein
Dwarsfluit: Julie-Anne Arendsen Hein
Backing vocals: Emily May ‘t Hoen & Mayke Smit & Kees Giesbergen (leden van 4-tune), Robert van Loon

Tekst & Muziek: Alice Altink

If you’re thinkin’ that a wrinkle’s just a wrinkle then you’re wrong
‘Cause a wrinkle is dependent on the way you sing your song
How you laugh and cry and anger, how you move and walk and talk
Yes your wrinkles get their form from the way you get along

Take for instance English people keeping their stiff upper lip
There’s no winkle to their wrinkle there’s no swaying with their hip
So their lips are stiff as hardboard and their cheeks get mighty long
Oh, these English men they wrinkle, pretty sour, ding a dong

Oh a wrinkle’s wrong, oh a wrinkle’s wrong
It’s not accepted in our society
But you’ll get along, yes you’ll get along
if you accept, learn, enjoy the wrinkle variety

Now we’re talking ‘bout this wrinkling let us take the Japanese
Always Sayonara Missus, always so eager to please
And a no is a real “nono”, Only “yes” is proper there
Lots of wrinkles eye to cheek always trying to say “cheese”

Take the Germans with their firmness they can look so very cross
They are oh so very decent and so perfect and so boss
Look at two deep lines on forehead and some less deep on the nose
Come to think of it the Russians too are coming very close

Now the French are par example of good clothing and good food
They are always très well-mannered, from aristocratic brood
As you know they’re veritable, not to mention magnifique
We could never count their wrinkles, they’re too delicate and chique

Dutch and Fins and Swedes and Belgians, they don’t differ very much
Nor Portuguese, Italians, Spanish, quite hot-tempered, warm in touch
But the Americans, what are they? They’re a great big melting pot
Yes, they wrinkle very diff’rent, but take surgery a lot

Now I must have left out folks, ‘cause it’s hard to name them all
But I must mention one people, for I want you to recall
That the wrinkles of old Indians are most beautiful of all
So be proud of your own wrinkles: they’re the wisdom of your fall