crabmeat thompson

crabmeat thompson

 Middletown, Delaware, USA

Let's have fun! Not your boring singer-songwriter, I host comedy clubs and MC fests in addition to playing lots of Family and kids' shows (I have 6 original albums). A complete low-maintenance funny philosopher-playing great guitar.


“Crabmeat has a wide repertoire of songs, ranging from comments on the environment to political topics to material based on his travels or his career as a college teacher, all done with his trademark sense of humor. In addition, his musicianship on guitar, voice, and other instruments is superb and he always develops a rapport with any audience. Crabmeat Thompson is an excellent performer!” (Mark Ellis, WVUD, 91.3FM)

For more than twenty years, Thompson has been performing what one critic has labeled "a funky gumbo of folk, blues, country, rock, and jazz.” He opened for poet Charles Bukowski at Veteran's Memorial Auditorium in San Francisco; and has played at the Tin Angel in Philadelphia and Sloppy Joe's in Key West, Florida; as well as a wide range of watering holes and coffeehouses from the Atlantic shore to the mountains of Montana and the backstreets of Madrid.

Crabmeat’s musical career began in Big Sur, California, in the “Fabulous Abalones,” and continued in Lake Tahoe, with the record-setting band “Rock Macho and the Country Felons.” In the Eighties Crabmeat fronted the “Live Wire Choir” in Missoula, Montana, and this experience in the mountain west inspired him to write the regional hit “Hot Springs,” which has aired on Doctor Demento.

Thompson's 2005 CD, Crabmeat 4 Kids, features songs such as "Teddy Bears' Picnic" and "Old Mac Donald." Other original songs: "One Ton Tomato," “Glory,” "Night of the Vegetables," “My Generation,” "Hare Krishna Waltz," and "Bigfoot's Baby," are on his several CDs available at, CDBaby or

Crabmeat recently sang and lectured on Irish music and poetry in Washington, DC, and University College, Dublin. His song, "Small Wonder," about Delaware, is published in Songs of the American People by Jerry Silverman (Mel Bay, Columbia, MO).

CM has opened for the Pointer Sisters, Buckwheat Zydeco, Tiny Tim, Steve Forbert, and the poet Charles Bukowski. An interview with Tiny Tim is on his CD South of the Moon.



Written By: Jerry "Cabmeat" Thompson

And I would wish you all the GLORY that could ever come with fame:
A million tongues to tell your story,
A million lips to chant your name.
But gold and glamour have a price you see, and if someday you find
An empty room a broken fantasy
Then I would wish you peace of mind.

For you might speak with tongues of angels,
You may have a godlike face;
Still sometime there will come a one
Who is swifter in the race.
And in that dark night when you feel it
You'll dream a dream of long ago
And if in that dream a face appears of someone that you almost know
That face is mine and remember that I stood one day just like you
So say a prayer for this lonely soul;
That's what all good dreamers do
And in that dark night when you feel it
You'll dream a dream of long ago
And if in that dream a face appears of someone that you almost know
That face is mine and remember that I stood one day just like you
So say a prayer for this lonely soul;
That's what all good dreamers do
On and on and on and
Round and round and round.

My Generation

Written By: Jerry "Crabmeat" Thompson

They grew up in Philadelphia – two kids in the depression
And their parents hated Roosevelt and they went away to school
Where daddy was on scholarship, played baseball for Delaware
And Momma was the May Queen
And besides that … they were poor.

One day when Dad was sitting on the wall in front of Harter Hall
He whistled at this Freshman gal he thought a bit too young
She would do for his kid brother, she had other plans, my mother
Can get her way most any day,
And so she got my Dad.

After graduation Daddy married Mom and they had a kid
My sister who was beautiful, a prodigy and more
But in time they felt a need to have another child, her brother
Who might carry on the family name cause Dad was called to war.

But the bunny lived and Dad was stationed right outside Savannah
So Mom came down to visit as the time was drawing short
He was quartered at Fort Lee and Mom was bunked down in the motor lodge
With a lot of other soldier’s wives with lots of work to do.

As necessity it’s true is the mother of invention
My Mom and Dad’s intention dragged his music to the fore
He’d go AWOL after midnight, Mom would slide the bolt and listen then
She’d know him by his whistle and she let him in the door.

And so I was conceived in a crowded room in Georgia
Pushing out of Mom as Dad was pushing into France
The censors took his letters, and she didn’t know where Daddy was
Until the war was over and the troops could all come back.

And though my Dad played catch with me I never could play baseball
While my sister’s brains and beauty brought her suitors by the swarm
But he left me something precious -- Daddy taught me how to whistle
And if Daddy’s whistle hadn’t worked I’d never have been born.

Birthday Trampoline

Written By: Jerry “Crabmeat” Thompson

© FICE Recording BMI, 2006

So on my birthday I’m sittin’ and playin this guitar,
Lookin’ out the window and across the street
At the former farmer’s fields where all those giant houses are,
And just lettin’ my thumb lay down a beat.

And as I sat there on my birthday sorta picking at the strings
I let my mind shut up so my thumb could have its way,
And my eyes got up and wandered by themselves across the street
Where some kids were on their trampoline at play.

And as I watched them bouncing on their jolly trampoline
I realized they were dancing to my beat,
And I wondered if I’d glimpsed them from the corner of my eye,
Or if the rhythm of my birthday crossed the street.

Or if actually we’re all umbilically attached
And could navigate each other’s thoughts if we listened Reeeal hard;
But I filed away that sort of Emersonian stuff
And paid attention to the splendor in that yard.

And my wife came in to listen and she sat down by my side
And we looked out through that window (that I really need to clean)
At the kids like cultured raindrops -- stately -- slurring up and down
To the soundtrack of the birthday trampoline.

And it was fine… and sometimes when it’s not
I try my best to keep my vision fastened on
The effortless perfection of that day and those four kids --
A precious moment, rare and swiftly gone.

And we watched them going gently up… and down
The tallest boy was thinnest dressed in green.
The smaller boy had red hair and a giggle,
And their sister, maybe, was bouncing in between.

While off beside that trampoline a little guy complained,
Till the biggest one got off to let him on,
And the beat we rode together was a thread that loosely bound us
As natural as the birdsong in the dawn.

And when I play this melody I see those bouncing kids
The red-haired boy, the girl, the guy in green;
And though I know I’ll have to wash that window soon
Right now I’m riding on the Birthday Trampoline.

The Musical Art (of Self-Defense)

Written By: Jerry “Crabmeat” Thompson

You were feeling so good when we left Colorado
That the road was like a garment on you.
Though we ran into snow as we came into Utah,
I thought I might venture a snooze.

I had given you one of my old busted blues harps
That soaked too long in a glass,
And you started in playing when my head hit the seat back
You were having yourself quite a blast.

When you wore out "Oh Susannah" I taught you some blues riffs
And you puffed yourself three sheets awake;
Besides whatever you put in your coffee at the diner
Was something that I’d never take.

I woke when we crested the hills into Utah
Coming down a steep five-mile grade;
You were puffin’ and a-grinnin’ going ninety miles an hour,
And I was about to be afraid.

“Sam,” I said, and my voice must have sounded far away,
“Don’t touch your brake – trust me – ease off the gas.
That shiny stuff’s ice; you’re a trifle overconfident” –
Old Sam was getting ready to pass.

So I played him a melody and I tried to keep it simple
As he inched our way down off that dark icy hill.
We made it home alive and Sam still sends me Christmas cards,
And I play harmonica still.

Two morals to this story as I look back through time,
With a different face, and a different voice:
Either “don’t trust your friends,” or “your music can save you,”
And I’ll leave you to make your own choice.

The latter’s more hopeful and I swear it’s the truth
‘Cause music unwinds me when the going gets tense;
And if you play for a living and you live very long:
Buddy someday you’ll have to play in SELF-DEFENSE!

Shop Until U Drop

Written By: Crabmeat Thompson

CHORUS: Shop, shop, shop until you drop!
Shop until you’re dizzy and your feets holler stop!
Shop until your credit card signs itself;
Don’t stop shoppin’ till there’s nothing on the shelves.
Shop until you’re spastic doin’ the Buzzard Lope;
When you got plastic, you got hope.

My name’s Minnie, and my man bores me.
When we go to the store he watches TV.
He watches the sports, knows all the scores

But I could buy more
If he’d get his behind into the store!
I mean, appliance section’s really neat,
But carryin’ my bags should be his beat.
Boogie! Boogie! Call it snot.
I’m goin’ shoppin’ ready or not

CHORUS: Shop, shop, etc….

My name’s Elmo and I’m ugly and fat
But Shoppin’ Silly Sally don’t care about dat.
I can carry her bags – I can carry a bed!
Carry little stuff in my mouth or on my head.
Carry bags and packages and keep ‘em all neat;
I can even weigh stuff on my big fat feet!
Other fellas hates me cuz I make ‘em look lazy
But dat’s BOOOLL: I’m Mall crazy!

CHORUS: Shop, shop, etc…

Christmas Rappin'

Written By: Crabmeat Thompson, aka Beat Master Meat

Christmas Rappin’
© “Crabmeat” Thompson, aka Beat Master Meat

This is Santa Claus and I’m comin' to your pad.
Listen to your Mama, and listen to your Dad.
When they tell you that it’s time to go to bed,
Close your eyes put down your head.
Be nice to the other kids and give 'em lots of hugs
And say your prayers and don’t do drugs!

I’m Mrs. Santa or call me Mrs. Claus.
The elves call me Nancy, Santa calls me Boss.
We love all you children, just the same.
Here come the reindeer -- I forget their names.

I am Comet like the big green can
Out in the kitchen by your Mom’s dishpan.
Rappin isn’t my thing and I just me feel stupid,
So I’ll give the mike to my man “Cool Cupid.”

I’m Cool Cupid, the most fly gu
Flyin' with Santa in the sky.
You want to fly, you think you’re cool,
You want to get by you need to stay in school.
Now I got to go and pull the sled
All you little mamas get to bed.
Before I go it’s a righteous honor to bring on my gal -- DD Donner!

Thanks Cool Cupid, yes it’s my world—
I’m DD Donner and I’m Cupid’s girl
D like the doughnut
O like the hole, N like Natalie, D like dough,
E like electric like electric train
R like in reindeer, and that’s my name.
Here comes Blitzen – hey folks, listen.
How’m I supposed to find a rhyme for Blitzen?

My name’s Blitzen like in pro football,
But I’ve gotta splitzin’ and I’ll see you all.

I am Dasher and I go real fast.
Workin for this Santa man is a gas.
Hey your holiday’s gonna be fun,
See you later I’ve got to run!

They call me Dancer when I get feelin’,
I get the groove dance on the ceilin’.
Dance with the reindeer wherever we are,
‘Cause I am Santa’s dancin’ star.
My time is up, we got to change,
Here come Prancer, he’s a little strange.

Hi, I’m Prancer, the sensitive deer,
I guess you might even say I’m (HEY WATCH IT!)
It’s my turn on the mic, and I was just fixin’
To introduce my good friend Vixen.

They call me Vixen, Santa says I’m cute;
I hear him callin’ I’ve got to scoot--
So I’ll say Ciao and toodle Oo
Here comes Rudolph, to rap for you!

I am Rudolph and I’ve had a blast
Since I signed with Santa, but I’m not the last.
We signed a rookie just this fall;
Here comes the kid – his name’s Jamal.

I’m Jamal, a new addition
To Santa’s airborne deer tradition.
I’m the rookie, so I’ll give way
And let the other reindeer have their say.

We are the reindeer, on our way
All the way form the Pole to the USA!
But don’t go look up in the sky
To see if reindeer really fly--
We won’t come round until you’re sleepin’,
So close your eyes, and no fair peekin’!

Cupid: No fair peeking!

Elf: Hey, we elves wanna rap too!

Santa: Why don’t you wrap some packages?

Rudolph: Here, wrap this!

Prancer: I don’t know if I can…


Animals, Vegetables, and Mineral Springs (1985) vinyl. Spiritual Beer (1989) cassette. Save the Bays (1991) cassette. Down on the Ant Farm (1994) cassette. Glory (1990) CD. Shop Unitil You Drop (2001) CD. South of the Moon (2004) CD. Crabmeat for Kids (2005) CD, Animals, Vegetables re-released on CD (2006), Birthday Trampoline (2007).

Most are available for listening at and or Amazon. Digital downloads available on iTunes.

"One Ton Tomato" airs weekly on the "Home Grown Tomatoes" gardening show, hosted by Kenn Alan Gann in Birmingham, Alabama. "Hot Springs" played on Dr Demento and has been recorded by John Dunnigan. "Save the Bays" is part of the environmental curriculum in some elementary schools, while "Small Wonder" has played on WSTW Philadelphia, and is anthologized in "Songs of the American People" (Mel Bay) along with three songs by Woody Guthrie.

Set List

My sets vary with the crowd. At a concert last night, for the sound check, as the soundman tweaked the monitors and ran around in front of me, I belted out “THE HUMORS OF WHISKEY, an Irish traditional a capella song.

When we were tuned in, I introduced and sang a song about my conception, in WW II, called MY GENERATION (MP3 here).

1.Teddy Bears’ Picnic
2.Old McDonald
4.Save the Bays
5.Comin’ Round Mtn
6.Sweet Baby James
7.Harmonica Medley
8. Small Wonder
9. Shop Until You Drop
10. Birthday Trampoline
11. My Generation
12. Workin’ on the RR
13. The Hokey Pokey
For a mature crowd: THE SCOTSMAN, a gut-buster funny song by Mike Cross, a capella. For “The Scotsman” I grab the mic and run off the stage and act the song out.

COVER SONGS? Something familiar to draw in those who relate to that, and to give the audience a sing or hum-along part in the show? Maybe SWEET BABY JAMES if there are restive kids, or a BOB DYLAN song (I know tons of early Dylan)