My mom introduced me to Mac Davis way back in the early 70's, and his music was a staple around our house. Back then, we were on the cutting edge of music technology with our quadraphonic 8-track stereo system, and my mom enjoyed nothing more than popping in a tape and dancing around the living room while lip syncing. Let's just say that Mac Davis' Baby Don't Get Hooked on Me tape got more than its fair share of sync time!

Although Mac Davis is known for having written some of Elvis' biggest hits, including "In the Ghetto," he was a singer, too. I've got all of his albums in my iTunes and enjoy reminiscing about my youth by playing them. But when I'm feeling kind of down and missing my mom, it's "Biff, the Friendly Purple Bear" that I listen to.

The sound quality on this video isn't the best in the world but even with scratchy sound, you'll want to keep a tissue handy!





Lyrics

Now I was a play horse you pulled with a string,
On wheels where my legs should be.
And he was the boy who pulled the toy
Around the treehouse tree.
And for the longest time it was just us two,
The boy and the horse that was me,
Until the day the purple bear came
To live in the treehouse tree.

Now it was early one spring,
and I was tied by my string
In the field of a make-believe farm
When around the house, the boy and the bear
Came marching arm in arm.
"This is Biff," said the boy to me,
"He's the friendly purple bear."
And Biff stooped down and stroked my mane
With a paw of purple hair.
"Biff has come to stay," said the boy,
"To pretend with me and you
And he can do anything a boy and a toy
Believe purple bears can do."

And taking the cue, Biff bowed from the waist
Then leaped and kicked his heels,
Then down to the ground with three somersaults
That ended in four cartwheels.
He whirled and twirled and stood on his head,
The boy giggled and slapped his thighs
And I laughed so hard that wooden tears
Rolled out of my painted eyes.
So Biff came to stay in the treehouse tree
And long days came without end
For the boy and the toy and the purple bear
And serious games of pretend.

Like the cowboy game, where the boy is the sheriff
And Biff is a bandit king
They always seemed to end
With the outlaws down in the jail
By the long rope-swing.
And you know there was this great pony race
That lasted for days around the flower bed.
Boy, that was a tough one!
Lucky for us though, I won by a wooden head.
And then one day we entered a pirate's cove
Beneath a bush on the alley side.
Old Biff had a sword and a paper hat,
And a patch across a purple eye.
And there was always the danger
Of outlaws or indians
And creatures from outer space,
And without the courage of the three of us,
We might have lost the whole darn place!

But we were bound by the code of the Musketeers.
Such golden hours were shared
By the freckled-face boy and the wooden horse toy
And Biff, the friendly purple bear.

But as summers passed, the boy grew taller,
And his voice took a strange new ring.
And his visits were few to the treehouse tree,
And never to the long rope-swing.
Biff the purple bear grew sad.
As he climbed down the treehouse tree
He shook his head, "I'm afraid," he said,
"He's forgotten you and me.
It seems, old wooden friend of mine
We've outlasted his boyhood years."
And he turned and he was gone, across the lawn
In a trail of purple tears.

Now I've been put to pasture in the old treehouse
But at times, I've seen from afar
A strange tall boy who mows the lawn
And tinkers about this old car.
But just today I saw a new little boy
Coming down the sidewalk, I swear!
He was headed straight for me
In the treehouse tree
Followed by Biff, that old friendly purple bear.