Hymn Along: My County, ‘Tis of Thee . . .

In early May, men and women at Churchill Downs weep into their mint juleps when they hear “My Old Kentucky Home” played at the Kentucky Derby.

“New York, New York” reverberates at Yankee games and makes Big Apple residents laugh and sing and feel superior.

At Laker games, fans groove to Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.”

Virginia has narrowed the search for a new state song to 14 finalists. One, written by country and western singer Jimmy Dean and his wife, is called, “Virginia.”

My home town of Omaha has a song. You’ve probably found yourself humming it:

“O-ma-ha, O-ma-ha,

Finest place you ever saw.”

So what’s my point?

Orange County doesn’t have a song. We’re 2.8 million people in need of a tune that binds us and tells the rest of the country, “Hey, we exist.”

With that in mind, I started doodling on a cocktail napkin I keep in my desk. Here’s what I have so far:

O, Orange County

(frisky tempo)

Verse 1

From San Clemente to La Habra,

Jamboree to Seal Beach Pier

People like to put us down,

And stick it in our ear.

They say we have no center,

No heart, no soul, no core,

So what, big deal, who gives a hoot?

Our life’s a candy store.

Verse 2

They call us superficial,

And wonder why we’re smilin’

If only they knew what we know:

A sale at Fashion Island!

Not everybody owns a Benz,

Much less a fancy yacht,

But we bide our time and play it cool,

And pray the Dow stays hot.

(Chorus)

O, Orange County,

There can be no disputin’,

Our ocean so Pacific,

Our canyon so Trabucan.

Verse 3

Our cul-de-sacs and street designs

Are not for the faint-hearted;

We drive and drive and drive and drive

And wind up where we started.

Our freeway scheme is quite unique

And often leads to panic

Many people aren’t prepared

For lanes that simply vanish.

(Repeat chorus)

Verse 4

Sushi, chimichanga,

International cuisine,

We may not be Vienna,

But we sure ain’t Abilene.

We feature every spoken tongue,

Some hard to distinguish,

It’s like the U.N. every day,

Can anyone speak English?

(Repeat chorus)

Verse 5

Wildflowers, fields of berries,

Majestic overpasses.

Let the critics carp and carp,

They’re just horses’ . . . eyelashes.

Praise, Orange County, nature’s ways,

Spare fox and ducks and horses,

As they wander playfully

On overpriced golf courses.

(Optional repeat chorus)

Verse 6

Fear not from tiny, spiteful folks

Who just don’t understand us,

They resent our Jag-u-ars,

Our hillside haciendas.

San Juan Capo, Foothill Ranch,

On out to Bastanchury,

Remember O.C.’s mantra well:

Life? No need to worry.

If any serious melodist wants to put some music to these words, be my guest. And, please, keep all the royalties.

Maybe I’m just a silly dreamer who wouldn’t know a lyric if it fell on him, but I envision the song someday being sung by thousands of weeping Orange Countians, holding hands and swaying to the music and words, just like Kentuckians on Derby Day.

It’s called tradition.

Ducks? Angels?

Interested?

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821.