by Rick Young | Jul 18, 2025 | Song
Rick Young’s son James has been playing music over the years, initially with The Hired Men and now also with The Dogmatics.
In 2013, James helped his dad start this blog and assisted him in creating early posts until Rick felt comfortable posting new content directly.
At that time, Rick also shared multiple song lyrics, and James has put two to music so far. The first one James set was Play the Roll, and the second was Con Job.
The Hired Men would often play Con Job live, and we are glad Rick got to hear some early renditions. When the rest of the Dogmatics heard it, they liked it and wanted to eventually record it in Rick’s honor.
Check out the newly released song that’s part of “Nowheresville,” the latest full-length release from The Dogmatics.
“Con Job”
Lyrics by Rick Young, Music by James Young
Lead vocals, Mandolin, Whistling – James Young
Lead & acoustic guitar, Backing vocals – Peter O’Halloran
Rhythm guitar – Jerry Lehane
Bass – Jimmy O’Halloran
Drums – Tom Long
While you are at it, listen to the full ten song album on Bandcamp.
BTW here’s a capture of the original email Rick sent.
by Rick Young | Sep 7, 2021 | Song
A young schoolboy named Billy Joe grew restless on the bus
The boy was filled with questions about what was all the fuss.
He’d picked his clothes and shined his shoes. He thought he looked quite cool.
And his mother cried as he walked out:
“Don’t wear your mask to school, son.
Leave your mask at home, Bill.
Don’t take your mask to school.”
He laughed and kissed his mom and said, “Your Billy Joe’s a man”
I can avoid this Covid best as anybody can.
And I won’t mask without a cause; I’d look a total fool.
She cried again as he rode off:
“Don’t wear your mask to school, son.
Leave your mask at home, Bill.
Don’t take your mask to school.”
He hummed a song as on he rode, his face mask left at home.
He saw his schoolmates in the yard, wherein they liked to roam.
He saw some wearing masks and wondered if that was the rule.
But his mother’s words echoed again:
“Don’t wear your mask to school, son.
Leave your mask at home, Bill.
Don’t take your mask to school.”
He razzed some of his schoolmates about covering their face.
And said they needn’t worry about virus in this place.
A bemasked schoolboy at his side began to laugh, quite cruel.
Again heard again his mothers words:
“Don’t wear your mask to school, son.
Leave your mask at home, Bill.
Don’t take your mask to school.”
Filled with spite then, Billy Joe breached Covid protocol.
But then he started coughing wildly right there in the hall.
As Billy Joe fell to the floor, the crowd all screamed “You fool!”
And wondered at his final words:
“Don’t wear your mask to school, son.
Leave your mask at home, Bill.
Don’t take your mask to school.”
by Rick Young | May 5, 2021 | Song
Awoke one morn to find that Donald Trump was sent to jail.
Surprisingly, he put up Kim Kardashian for bail.
But that was not enough. They wanted his two sons.
“If you seek Don and Eric, you’d best watch out, they have guns.”
Oh yes, we’ve seen a list of all the animals they’ve killed;
and please know that, because of that, you’re going to get billed.
Perhaps your loyal Kushners could loan you the cash you need.
You were the popper, after all, of her bright demon seed.
Each loyal ‘friend’ tried to defend their old boss Forty Five.
But, secretly, their wish was that he not be still alive.
They say he’ll live alone in Alcatraz, where he can brood.
Occasionally, some tourists might stop by and throw him food.
Of course, he won’t be satisfied. He needs food in a bucket.
The only reason for their visit’s so they can yell, “Suck It!”
by Rick Young | Feb 26, 2021 | Song
Look out you Saudis.
Look out, Iran.
Big Joe’s not gaudy,
America’s man.
Cool out your nut stuff.
We’ll make a deal.
We don’t just talk tough.
We’ll make you feel.
We can hug later.
Just cool your jets.
Don’t let some hater
Cancel your bets.
This was just practice.
We’ll get precise.
Stop your aggression.
Then we’ll play nice.
by Rick Young | Jan 30, 2021 | Song
Klomp. Bomp.
We got the swamp.
We got left in the lurch without a perch.
And now we’re fighting back
an organized attack.
It’s hard to play defense and do research.
The slime laid on The Cap,
the cinch ’em, lynch ’em crap,
was just phase one of orange afterbirth.
There is no place to hide
with henchmen loose inside.
It’s turned the tide of weather on this earth.
While now the Flag’s a weapon
and the Guard is over steppin’,
clans may plan now their white wonder land.
Will this be world war .3? The end of history?
Let’s resurrect the “We Are The World” band!
Pop pop pah pa, mama, momma, ta tah.
by Rick Young | Nov 27, 2020 | Song
DjTj 2024.
Nuttin like you ever even seen before.
‘Member screamin’ lady yellin’
“best is yet to come”?
She be sacrificed in tv show
called DjCHUM.
Shark bite. Dark night.
Star bright. Ignite.
We more dan brite.
We may take flyte.
You never, never, never know
where costly coke will make you go.
I bin in places where
you needed upsleeve aces,
and on high spots
where many people flew.
I’ve seen a torture dungeon
and the place Square Bob was spongin’.
So I’m ready for my role in CoupCoup II.
