After tuning into a radio station featuring “Hits From Yesterday and Today!” during a particularly long drive, I was struck by the fact that I could sing along (hence the baying dogs along the way) to nearly every tune.

How is that possible?

How could I, having not heard George Harrison’s “Crackerbox Palace” in over 40 years, automatically know each verse and chorus? I mean, it’s easy to remember all the huge hits — “Hotel California,”  “With or Without You,” “Uptown Funk” — but what about all the obscure songs that I don’t ever even remember hearing before?

I mean, when on earth did I ever learn “Allegheny Moon?” “That’s Amore?” Why is it that I can’t remember why I just walked into the bedroom, but I know every word of “I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas…”

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas

Only a hippopotamus will do

Don’t want a doll, no dinkey tinker toy

I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy

Is that stuck in your head now? Good, now you know how I feel, because for some reason last Thursday morning, I started humming that in the barn while cleaning stalls.

I can’t freaking stand that song. It’s right up there with Alvin and The Chipmunks, “Hurry Christmas Day,” although I had a toy Alvin as a child and adored it, so at least that makes sense.

I also do a great impression of Alvin, if only to drive Paul insane. Ask a man to drive the trash to the recycler and he’ll ignore you. Ask him in Alvin’s voice and the truck tires will fling gravel at the front porch.

I wonder how many songs a person can remember, oh, Great Oracle of Google? But little help there, just mostly guesses and a lot of technical jargon about petabytes and neurons that lost me after the first paragraph.

Even if I had read further and thoroughly enjoyed it, I would have forgotten it in a week’s time, unlike:

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas

I don’t think Santa Claus will mind, do you?

He won’t have to use a dirty chimney flue

Just bring him through the front door

That’s the easy thing to do

Yes, I’m sorry, that was grinding the heel into the wound a bit, wasn’t it, but misery loves company, even if you don’t want to be my company.

However, I do apologize and promise not to do it again. Cross my heart. So instead:

If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain

If you´re not into yoga, if you have half a brain

If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape

I´m the love that you´ve looked for, write to me, and escape

All better?

Pam Stone, of Landrum, is a comedian, author and horse dressage trainer.