Breaking Down the Lyrics of the theme song to TV's GRIZZLY ADAMS

'Maybe' by Thom Pace

Deep inside the forest is a door into another land,

Put the shrooms down, Adams...there ain't no mystical door leading anywhere (Narnia? Wonderland? Oz? Middle-Earth?); just the one that opens into your rundown dump of a bear-stenched cabin.


Here is our life and home,

Nice spread, Fugitive; 'pears the whiskey-sodden Mountain Man Friend of your's musta helped install this porch as it has a noticeable slant to the east. I'm also assuming that pile of timber over there is your 'divan'? And, really...what's that smell?

We are staying, here forever in the beauty of this place all alone,

Who's this WE you're referencing? You and Your grizzly bear companion? The besotted Mad Jack? His pack-ass, Number Seven? Nakoma? Your rugged overalls? Or has your isolation from society and the thin air on your mountain retreat driven you into some weird ass (non-donkey) insanity? Of course, it could very well be that sucking the fumes of that peculiar and off-putting odiferousness day-in day-out has made you nuts...ya ever hear of soaking in a creek once in a blue moon (or are you afraid of someone purloining your natty threads or peeping a glance at your backwoods junk?)?

We keep on hoping ...

For?!? Hoping for what? That your criminal record is expunged? That you had a water closet or a bar of soap? Maybe some other compadres besides a stolid and reticent Native American and a Doctor-Doolittle-esque Mule Chatting Trader? I can understand THAT kinda hope in your particular situation, crook.

Maybe, there's a world where we won't have to run, and

An unlikely dream world there, Adams...sounds like you've had your nose in the ether again (which, I can say assuredly, would smell a helluva lot better than your malador).

Maybe, there's a time we'll call our own,

Shall I ring the good Doctor and see if the Tardis is available for a trip to a different age? P'raps an age of abundant lather?

Living free in harmony and majesty,

Hardly a harmonious and majestic life if you're constantly worried about:

the authorities locating you and bringing you to justice
Mad Jack's appearing unannounced and eating all your bacon
Nakoma standing around not saying much
Ben getting into the corn-squeezings
and so on


Take me home,
Take me home.

Okay...you're fucked up. Have you so quickly forgotten Line Two to your little Ditty?
Here is our life and home?!?

You're already there, Adams. See that glorified lean-to over there? The one with the Stink-Lines emanating from it?
With the bear sitting on a barrel chewing on a boot?
And the grey-haired and bearded Daniel Boone-ian holding a one-sided argument with the silent Indian over the use of his beast of burden?

That's your damn home.

T