En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Alcoholics Unanimous

ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS

The head of blended Spirits
saw his future looking bleak.
The case sales for Scotch Whiskey
trended downward week to week

What was the cause of this decline?
Why were sales weak as water?
To find out he relied upon
his party loving daughters.

When they reported back to him
He nearly died from shock:
Folks weren’t merely “buying down”
because they were in hock.

Instead they met in basement clubs
And sat on folding chairs
Pouring out their troubles
To such strangers as were there.

They told him of a program
That sounded like a cult:
Twelve steps to salvation-
Start with putting down the cup.

They said the former customers
Had mentors they could call
To talk them out of drinking
if they longed for alcohol.

The head of blended spirits
Hatched a bold and daring plan-
ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS
“The Friends of Old Grand Dad”

They’d meet in clubs and taverns
As you might surmise
And sponsored “beer pong” tournaments
with Whiskey as the prize.

The new club had its mentors too
Conveniently right in town
To talk folks into drinking
And to join them in a round.

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young indian you should remember well
From the tribe of pima indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the phoenix valley in arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now iras folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white mans greed
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
They started up iwo jima hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the indian ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Now ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a pima indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what ira had done and the wind did the indians
Dance
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
And ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like youd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where ira died
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Car Club

Ive been cruisin round the town now with the guys for quite a while
We been thinkin bout starting up a club that shows some class and style
And well get the finest cars
We got a deuce coupe, a stingray, a rail job and an xke
(well start a car club)
Well be the fastest at the drags, man, well really cut some low ets
(well start a car club)
And wipe out the other clubs
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really put you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Well set a meet, and get a sponsor, and collect some dues
And you can bet that well have our jackets on wherever we cruise
Well get the roughest and the toughest initiation we can find
(well start a car club)
And if you want to try to get in well really send you through the grind
(well start a car club)
This clubs the very best
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)
Start a club, a car club
(start a car club)

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes

(peter lafarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
bout a brave young indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of pima indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the phoenix valley out in arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Iras folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came ira volunteered and forgot the white mans greed.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up iwo jima hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and old glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an indian, ira hayes.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Well, ira hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But hes just a pima indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what ira did and when do the indians dance.
Well, ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like youd throw a dog a bone.
And ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land hed fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for ira hayes.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken ira hayes, but his land is till as dry
And his ghost, well, thats lying thirsty in the ditch where ira died.
Call him drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking indian or marine who went to war.

song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Ira Hayes

(Peter LaFarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
?Bout a brave young Indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley out in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Ira's folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and Old Glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an Indian, Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But he's just a Pima Indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what Ira did and when do the Indians dance.
Well, Ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like you'd throw a dog a bone.
And Ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land he'd fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his lan

song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Years Eve

Another Christmas has come and gone
now thoughts turn to the new year
people planning their celebrations
with lots of food and lots of beer.
Christmas is for the kids we all say
now it's our turn to let our hair down
while some people party in their homes
others like to dress up and head for town.
All the pubs and clubs get really full
everyone packed in like Sardines in a tin
but this is New Years Eve in the U.K.
so get stuck into the Lager, Whisky, and Gin.
Some people like to start drinking early
but this means they don't make it to midnight
and some can't handle the drink they've had
so all they do is argue and want to have a fight.
But at midnight when the clocks strike twelve
people raise their glasses and begin to cheer
couples embrace and strangers shake hands
and drunkenly wish each other a happy New Year!

poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drinking

Christmas is all about drinking
Let’s have another peg
As if every day we don’t keep
Drinking…
Let’s have another peg

As if you and me
Need an occasion for drinking
Let’s have another peg
How about making this
Festival worthwhile…
And take a pledge to stop
Drinking?

Promises are for fools to keep
Let’s have another peg.

[Poem themed on Alcoholism]

(A sincere plea to all Alcoholics: please give up drinking. Spend that money on healthy food and warm clothes to keep you cosy this Christmas.)

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Occasional Blackout Feb 8th 2011

I PASSED SOME HARD WORKING ALCOHOLICS ALONG THE WAY,
EVEN SOME WHO COMMITTED SUICIDE BUT BE THAT AS IT MAY,
THOSE POOR PEOPLE SO INCLINED SHOULD BE HELPED OUT OF THEIR DISTRESS,
BUT IT DOESN’T WORK TOO GOOD WITH ALCOHOLICS, I GUESS.

I WAS ONCE AN ALCOHOLIC MYSELF SO I KNOW THEIR WAYS,
TRY TO ACT AND TALK SOBER IN THE MIDST OF CONSTANT MALAISE,
AND HIDE THE SECRET SICKNESS THAT SO FEW KNOW ABOUT,
PRETENDING WE WERE AS SOBER AS A UNIFORMED BOY SCOUT.

LIVING IN THE OCCASIONAL BLACKOUT VERY CLOSE TO THE BRINK,
WHAT DID I DO FOR THOSE FOUR HOURS AND HOW MUCH DID I DRINK?
HOW DID I GET FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY TO HERE?
DID MY CAR KNOW THE WAY AND SHOULD I LOOK AROUND IN FEAR?

IT WAS FEAR OF SCARY BLACKOUTS THAT CAUSED ME TO GO DRY,
I COULDN'T REMEMBER THOSE MANY HOURS, THE WHEN, THE WHERE OR WHY,
I LEFT MY MANY FRIENDS IN THE TAVERNS AND THOSE CLOSE KNIT BARS,
OTHERS, AMONG MY FRIENDS HAD TO GO BACK FOR SOME … CIGARS.

FEB 8TH,2011

poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Are The Anonymous

There two kinds of alcoholics those who can function and those can not
We call them functional, and nonfunctional alcoholics.
One works every day just to celebrate
The other calls off sick, bums money for another drink and continues to celebrate
So to the alcoholics who are anonymous which one are you?

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weekend Glory

Some clichty folks
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.

They move into condos
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.

If they want to learn how to live life right
they ought to study me on Saturday night.

My job at the plant
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.

Take the church money out
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.

Folks write about me.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.

They accuse me of livin'
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.

My life ain't heaven
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.

poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Football Season

Another Football Season has just commenced having said so just the same
A lot of hype and excitement about a field game
For many from their life problems a relief of sorts
Suppose that's why the establishments created sports.

Some things do seem to change little from year to year
Of football fans discussing football one often does hear
They talk of their Club as if the Club they did own
'Tis from people like them that Football Clubs are grown.

They talk of team ratings and player stats and of last weekend's best on ground
And of who their team are due to play in the next round
And the forward with a goal for the taking who kicked a behind
Next week with the seconds a place he may not find.

Another Football Season commencing the barracker's wife
She does feel neglected but then such is life
He knows about Football and the words of the Club song
And his heart to the Club it does surely belong.

poem by Francis Duggan
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You're Not Drinkin' Enough

(Kortchmar)
I can see that you havn't recovered
From the girl who let you down
You would sell what is left of your soul
For another go 'round.
You keep telling yourself she means nothing
Maybe you should call her bluff
But if you don't really mean it
You must not be drinking enough.
Well, the perfume she wore
You can buy down at the five and dime
But on some other woman
It don't smell the same in your mind.
You keep telling yourself you can take it
You tell yourself that you're tough
But if you still want to hold her
You must not be drinking enough.
You're not drinking enough,
To wash away old memories
And there ain't enough whiskey in Texas
To keep you from beggin', please, please, please.
She passed on your passion, stepped on your pride
It turns out you ain't quite so tough
'Cause you still want to hold her
You must not be drinking enough.
You heard this grown man cry
You ask yourself why
'Cause you still want to hold her
You must not be drinking enough.
Ay - yi - yi - yi
Ask yourself why
You still wanna hold her
You must no be drinkin' enough...

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contrast Of Two Views

on the other fence
are colored lights

a party of laughter
and a fountain of
drinks

roast pig, San Miguel
beer, Tanduay rum

clinking glasses
merry widows and
glints of new
moonlights on
clear glass

between us is this
wall of barbed wire
and fortune plant tall
for hedges

as a contrast
in here the lights at
the patio are turned off
the dogs are sleeping soundly
and the chairs by the door
are turned upside down

it is as though
the world here is a store
closed
and the storekeeper is
heeding towards home
after recording the
volume of sales

the accounting is done
and windows are closed
and tables all covered

there is peace
on this side of the world

they say
that on the other side
they are trying to talk about
preventing another war

ideas clink
views are diverging
so much talk
there is a preparation
for something
big and
horrible

and they call it
a diplomatic party
where eyes look intently
on each other
where schemes are
hatched
where fledglings
come out hopping
like nuclear
bombs....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Talk To Strangers

When you were just a young girl and still in school
How come you never learned the golden rule
Dont talk to strange men, dont be a fool
Im hearing stories, I dont think thats cool
Why dont you tell me, someone is loving you
Cause youre my girl, some say its no longer true
Youre seeing some slick continental dude
Im begging you, please
Dont talk to strangers, baby dont you talk
Dont talk to strangers, you know hell only use you up
Dont talk, dont talk, dont talk,
Dont talk, dont talk to him
Nobody, talk, nobody, ever told you, dont talk
Now tell me, hows life in the big city
I hear the competitions tough, baby thats a pity
And every mans an actor, every girl is pretty
I dont like whats getting back to me
Now whos this, don juan Ive been hearing of
Love hurts when only ones in love
Did you fall at first sight or did you need a shove
Im begging you, please
Dont talk to strangers, baby dont you talk
Dont talk to strangers, you know hell only use you up
Dont talk, dont talk, dont talk,
Dont talk, dont talk to him
Nobody, talk, nobody ever told you, dont talk
*fais lamour avec moi (*make love to me)
Whats he saying baby
*viens dormir, mon amour (*come to sleep my love)
I asked you not to talk to him
*je taime donne moi ton coeur ce soir (*i like you to give me your heart this night)
Im begging you
Dont talk to strangers, baby dont you talk
Dont talk to strangers, you know hell only use you up
Dont talk, dont talk, dont talk,
Dont talk, dont talk to him
Nobody, talk, nobody ever told you, dont talk
Dont talk to strangers, baby dont you talk
Dont talk to strangers, you know hell only use you up
Dont talk to strangers, baby dont you,
Baby dont you talk,
Dont talk to strangers

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Call

[all]
Last call for alcohol
The club is almost closed
(thats right)
So I need your name and your number
(yo, yo)
Before the night is through
[tash]
Yall wanna talk about drinking?
I took a drink, took a swallow
Left the champagne bottle hollow
Passed my keys to lil talo
Cant crash the el dorado
You know how it go
When you sipping on mo
You be tore up from the floor up
And you dont even know
[xzibit]
I had the bartender set up three shots
I knocked em back
Nitrate over the track
The whole crowd reacted
From right here through the ? ?
Baby relax youre rolling with me
Its mister a through x to the z
[sfp]
Going out with my friends
To celebrate the weekend
I hope the club is jumping
So I can find a little something
Wanna get my drink on
Wanna get my freak on
Im gonna try to come on
Before the night is over
1 ? [all]
Last call for alcohol
The club is almost closed
So I need your name and your number
Before the night is through
Last call for alcohol
The club is almost closed
So I need your name and your number
Before the night is through
[sfp]
Checkin for the sisters
Flossin the prada
Dolce gabana baby can I holla?
You know Im peepin atcha
Hoping I can catch ya
I wanna get atcha
Can we dance before the night is over?
Come on, oh
Repeat 1
[sfp]
This round is on me
Champagne and hennesy
I got chips just get whatchu like
Next round is on you
Tequila shots and brew
Im getting faded yo
Cause I didnt drive
[tash](xzibit)
Its last call yall so all yall
Its time to pull your money out
Come through, post up
Peepin all the honeys out
Smoke fest, guinness out
Got your homies passing out
(party down baby)
You know what x and ca-tash about
[xzibit]
Yo I stay with it
While you perpetrate and try to play with it
Something people with the all chrome
Custom fitted whatever you want
From the car straight to the bar
Were the la guns holding hennesy for everyone
Repeat 1 till end

song performed by by Xzibit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiskey Girls

Long hair, flashing eyes
The kind of hips that make you fantasize
A slow smile, just meant to tease
One look and youll be weak at the knees
They got my head in a whirl
cos I cant get enough of those whiskey girls
They got the world at their fingertips
With just a look and lick of the lips
They understand the rhythm of the night
Im in a daze, I dont know wrong from right
They got my head in a whirl
cos I cant get enough of those whiskey girls
Chorus
Hypnotised - by the whiskey girls
Compromised - out of this world
Lord above, could this be love
Aint no doubt about it
Im crazy about the whiskey girls
Whiskey girls are out on the town
Theyll break your heart, theyll bring you down
Whiskey girls are out of control
For just one touch youd sell your soul
The moon is high Im getting out of the line
Whishful thinking with a one track mind
Im having flashes, oh cant you see
Theyre walking through my private fantasy
Wearing only a necklace of pearls
Those slow walking, long-legged whiskey girls
Chorus twice

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)

It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.

poem by David Harris
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The Lettuce And Burger Address.....[LONG; Humor; Capitalism]

Four months and seven days ago me an' my brother Joe here
brought to 'yas' a new diner with both sugar AND Equal, and
catsup for all.
Our competition (ha ha) cut prices to pressure us, but we countered with a new menu.....and topless waitresses.
There have been some skirmishes as some 'a' 'ya', our customers know.
But Joe and me are diner veterans and 'in for a penny, in for a pound', as Mom used to say.

Remember not all diners, meaning businesses, are created equal to US, but all diners, meaning people, ARE equal to US, and we plan 'ta' come out on top.
Many 'a' 'yas' been good and loyal customers for weeks, and
Joe and me got our Grand Opening Week, comin' Sunday through Saturday.
As always we got free medium sodas and coffee, one per customer.
And for those with five holes me or Joe punched in your loyalty cards,
you each receive a free dessert 'wit' purchase of any entrée (17 dollars or more) .
How 'da ya' like that folks? Pretty swell, huh?

Tuesday and We'nesday we got live music, Jazz Tuesday and Blue Grass We'nesday.
In the future we might get live music all the time; free for loyal customers; three bucks a head for them without cards. Nice, huh? You betcha!
Remember loyalty cards is always available from our lovely wait staff. Take a LOW bow girls. Nice!

Burgers and hots will still be our featured items on the menu.
We got six kinds 'a' burgers and three kinds 'a' hots.
All them come with fries or onion rings and coleslaw or ‘tato salad;
hot sauce me and Joe got for 'yas' too. Nice, huh?
But Joe and me (we're buddies as well as bro's 'ya' know?) plan 'ta'
expand the choices to please our customers even more. That's you folks.
Fish and chips, cold sandwiches, and chili and takeout are maybe comin'.

We plan a great run here, Joe and me, see, as we continue to serve 'ya', our friends.
We might branch out to other locations as our competitors (ha ha) wise up and go belly up.....'fore they owe too much dough 'ta' ev'ryone.

(That's when they know they can't beat me and my brother here.)

There's been talk ‘bout lawsuits ‘bout our girls' attire (or lack of it) but Joe and me got the city boys in our pockets. (ha ha)
Never forget we love all 'yas', our loyal customers.

And don't forget our new address here: 1200 Oceanside Avenue..this place here.
Tell your people about our great food. Thanks a bunch. Lunch too.
(Nov.2012)

poem by Bri Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whiskey, Whiskey

Shes a little bit of the sunshine
Just before the rain
A little like this quiet night
Before the cold winds came
Shes a little bit like the weather
I never know when shes gonna change
Shes a part of my heart
And a whole lot of my pain
Chorus:
Whiskey, whiskey my old friend
Ive come to talk with you again
Milk of mercy please be kind
Drive this feeling from my mind
Dont you know, somehow her smile
Can make the day begin
Shed take away this mask of grey
And let the sun shine in
Now I find Ive been blinded
By the cold and wintery wind
She disguised behind her eyes
Oh what a fool Ive been
Chorus:
Whiskey, whiskey my old friend
Ive come to talk with you again
Milk of mercy please be kind
Drive this feeling from my mind
Chorus:
Whiskey, whiskey my old friend
Ive come to talk with you again
Milk of mercy please be kind
Drive this feeling from my mind

song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's The Use Of Getting Sober

Dv = deep voice, sv = squeaky voice
Dv: boy, you listen to your old pappy
Sv: yeah, pappy
Dv: and stop drinking so much
Sv: i'm-i'm ain't been doing so much drinking, pappy
Dv: shut up, boy! you drink all day and you drink all night and you know, son, that that ain't right
Sv: oh pappy, you just give me a chance. i, i can, i . . .
Dv: shut up, boy! boy, you're lookin' thin as a twig
Sv: i know that . . .
Dv: look likes your dear old pappy - about to blow your wig
Sv: oh i'm gonna blow my wig, pappy
What's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Dv:
I went out last night about half past one
Thought i'd whoop it up a little and have some fun
I got me a half pint about half past two
Mmm, mmm, the way i was feeling you know what i wanna do
Got me a pint about half past four
Felt so good, went out and got me some more
Got me a quart about half past five
Boy, that was so nice didn't know if i was dead or alive
So what's the use of getting sober if you're gonna get drunk again
Oh sam done something fine
When he bought that good whiskey, beer and wine
I love my whiskey and i love my gin
Every time you see me i'm in my sin
So what's the use of getting sober
When you're gonna get drunk again
Well i've been thinking
But i keep drinking
I guess i'm 'bout lose my mind

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Local Still

Its three oclock in the morning
And theyre sayin youve had enough
But you want another drink
Good old north or southern stuff
Youre a boy from way down south
Folks from the old north
And its friday night
Its party night for you
King george he sent the excise men
The yankee revenuers
It dont matter what they try
Theyll never stop the brewin
Because a man will take a glass
To make his spirits fly
On a friday night
Its party night for you
They bring out laws and taxes
Try to cut you down
If you cant go to the corner bar
Then youll go underground
So come on down to your local still
And buy yourself a thrill
On a friday night
Its party night for you
* whiskey the water of life
Theres more to it than the pourin
Oiled the reel on the fiddle bow
And sent the music soarin
My old man and his old man
They knew what they were doin
Lovin malt from the old land
And the corn from tennessee
If youre feelin lowdown
You dont need no pill
Come along and join the clan
Support your local still
You can win your bar-room blues
Find that hazy delight
On a friday night
Its party night for you
Repeat *
Its three oclock in the morning
And theyre sayin youve had enough
But you want another drink
Good old north or southern stuff
Youre a boy from way down south
Folks from the old north
And its friday night
Its party night for you.
(written and arranged by nazareth)
Copyright 1983 fool circle limited
All rights reserved.

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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