Munster Pickles Jig - Oh, the (dubious) joys of Irish cuisine! The thought of hot pickles amuses me. RV - vocal & guitar; KB - fiddle; TW - tin whistle; JD - bass
Dog-Gone Man - Suppose we had to live a dog’s life, where everyone we meet wants to fight or sniff for roses under our butts? I had to involve Kris on this as she loves dogs, as well as most anything humorous. RV - vocal, guitar and fretless banjo; KB - fiddle; TW - bass, harmony fiddle; Marty - barks
(A) CHORUS Oh my road is rough, and rocky too.
Steeper now, I say to you.
My road is rough, and rocky too.
I’m on my way back home.
(A) The night is dark, and stormy too, raining hard, I say to you.
The night is dark, and stormy too, I’m on my way back home.
(B) I’m on my way, and I won’t turn back,
Even though the Devil asks.
I’m on my way, and I won’t turn back;
I’m on my way back home. (cho)
(A) They tempted me, and called me to the easy road, I say to you.
They tempted me, and called me too, I’m on my way back home.
(B) Yes, I left, to live in sin,
And I was the Devil’s twin
Yes, I left, to live in sin
I’m on my way back home.
(A) Oh, it’s hard to ride, with the Devil too. He makes it hard, I say to you.
Oh, it’s hard to ride with the Devil too. I’m on my way back home.
(B) Yes Jesus died, and saved my sins.
Glory be, we’ll meet again.
Yes Jesus died, and saved my sins.
I’m on my way back home. (cho)
@ 2006 Roland Vinyard
I met a girl the other night, whom I would like to know.
Friends said she liked me too.
I only asked to get her name, not to be her beau;
And they said, “Forget it: she’s married.”
I was sit—ting in the chair at the barbershop.
A belle passed by, my eyes went wide.
The barber said, “I know her well”, then my heart it stopped
When he said, “Forget it; she’s married.”
Wherever I am, I see them in my dreams,
Oh how, they torture me.
Yet my eyes they wander, it tears at my seams,
To forget them; you know they’re married.
There was a sing—ger that I heard, at the county fair
Hair of gold and eyes of blue.
A real charmer she was, my friend, I hadn’t got a prayer;
And they said, “Forget it; she’s married.”
Everywhere that I go, there’s beauties that I see.
I hate to leave them alone.
But there’s a better one at home, I think you will agree
To forget the others; I’m married.
Wherever I am, I see them in my dreams,
Oh how they torture me.
Yet my eyes they wander, it tears at my seams,
To forget them; you know I’m married.
We met at the dance at Riley’s new barn.
Ne’er had I such a thrill
To see you there, in your youthful charm,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
It took a month to ask for your hand,
By the oak atop the hill,
Two long months to get our new land,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
Babes came, grew up, and left,
Gone of their own free will.
A cradle death left us bereft,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
The farm, our love, flourished and grew,
For we knew how to till.
Forty short years, the time just flew,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
OId now, we began to slow,
Nearly o’er the hill.
Our time together, shorter, we know,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
Though you’ve gone, mem’ries reclaim,
O’er my mind they spill.
Without you here, I must remain,
And I’m loving you still. (2x)
Right and left I’ll bound, when I try to make my round
I’ve worn a path this way.
Searching, senses honed, for that month-old bone
With an aroma that I call “gourmet”.
I’m a dog, gone man
Just so you can understand;
I’ll come when you call and bring back every ball
(or I’ll chase every car; they won’t get too far)
(or I’ll sniff between your pants, if I only get the chance)
I’m a dog, I’m a dog gone man.
Every stranger that I see wants to fight with me;
Just to prove who’s the boss.
We’ll snarl and we’ll tear, and each lose some hair
That’s how we get the point across.
And when I take a stroll to show I’m in control
My right leg lifted high.
I’ll squirt and I’ll spurt and everyone alert
That this Dude, the King, passed by.
There’s no one that I meet in the field or in the street
Whose butt don’t hide a rose.
I sniff and I inhale, female or a male;
That’s how I earned this brown nose.
It’s a great life that I lead and if I want to breed
I’m not embarrassed or grossed out -
Unless we get stuck when we try to ...do it
And someone starts kicking us about.
That Old Guitar -My first CD of all originals. Much of the lead playing and singing and harmony is done by The Bard Rocks. But there was significant help from Jenn Dreaper (JD) and additional assistance from Tom White (TW), Kathy Shimberg (KS) and Kris Berner (KB). We all have many reasons to be proud of the results and think you will enjoy hearing them every bit as much as we enjoyed creating them.
$12 will get you a copy, $15 if you want it mailed. I accept cash and checks (mail to Roland Vinyard, 597 State Highway 162, Sprakers NY 12166).
Below are short descriptions, musical notation, lyrics, and chords for each song. Please understand that all songs are copyrighted.
Got to town at half past five, and thought I’d take a drink.
Up and down the muddy street, every storefront black as ink.
Blank eyes stare from everywhere and I’ve got to pee:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
I spent the night in a livery barn, hay all down my back.
Itching, scratching, sneezing all night, covered by a burlap sack.
Rats and roaches riding their coaches, fleas biting with glee:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
I fell asleep at dawn, the rats all settled down,
Then a whistle blasted the air, the freight train’s come to town.
I jumped up clean, hit my head on a beam, then I twisted my knee:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
I went outside, the whole town’s there, to see the train unload.
Only a barrel and four boxes came down, the train just barely slowed.
The week’s fun all over and done, they seed what they could see:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
A man put his hand on my arm, “Boy, what you doing here?”
A star on his chest, big belly below, caused by too much beer,
His scummy wall eyes attacked by flies, and I tried to flee:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
They pushed and shoved me in the can, despite my protests,
That pest - tilential Hell - they called it my “cosy nest”.
When the judge makes his round, I’ll stand my ground and I’ll make my plea:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
They fed me on hot dogs and turnips for nearly twenty days
With all the bouquet of musty year old hay
The jailer sang one song all day long, strictly off-key:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
My day in court was a quarter hour, but they gave me 2 weeks
Filling wells, carrying water from their filthy, dirty old creek.
Once I’m loose, I’ll be a long-gone goose, with a short pedigree:
They call it Missouri, they call it Missouri, but it’s misery to me.
1)
Pat Mulvaney was in the bar, and he was black and blue.
I says to him, Pat”, says I, “What happened to you?”
“It were that Mike McGuire”, he said, “Wot done this to me”.
“Why that little tyke”, says I, “How can that ever be?”
2)
I remarked, “How can this be? Had he something in his hand?”
“Aye; it were a shovel he had; he beat me tilI I couldna stand.”
“And had you nothing in your hand to relieve you of your plight?”
“O, Molly McGuire’s breast I had, but twere no good in a fight.
I love a sunny day, as the clouds all blow away
With newly mown grass soft to the touch.
Eyes closed, on my back, I begin to lose the track
As sky marshmallows form vapor and such.
Don’t you think I know as zephyrs softly blow
Blossoms unfurl, and face the sky….
Enjoy these things today before they fade away
Fluffy white or blanket of grey.. any day
Fluffy white or blanket of gray.
When love is strong and warm, there’ll never come a storm,
Begin each day with a joyful start.
If you let a shadow in, the worm then begins
To feast and carve a hole right in your heart.
If you watch for the signs, don’t let them define
Your life, your love, or the way you play:
Believe me it is true, happiness is up to you -
If you want it, you can have it every day.
It’s now a year that you’ve gone.
And in the dusk, when the sun is down.
It seems to speak and well we know
There’s a debt we still owe.
It’s not the same; it’s changed somehow.
That old guitar, silent now.
Who’d ever thought we’d miss it too,
That old guitar, part of you.
Yes indeed, I feel its stare
Should I touch, do I dare?
Caress it’s body, its neck and head,
Or just close the case instead?
Is that rust on its strings?
Remember how it once would ring,
Its voice and yours, both clear and true;
That old guitar, part of you.
But it needs to live, there’s songs to sing,
Rooms to fill with its ring.
In another’s arms, let it come alive
Through its sound, your life revived.
.
Root - Both Jenn & I live in the Town of “Root”, a great small Town with a funny name. It gave me an excuse to name some surrounding spots. Locals love to see how many they can identify. RV - vocal & guitar; JD - harmony vocal & bass
Played in A on the recording.
Oh, I am a fat Republican, both jolly and gay.
Every night where the lights are bright; that’s where I will stay.
I never miss a party, for the food and wine,
And maybe a lady who for one night might be mine.
(Singing) Diddle her high, diddle her low, and that’s the way, we all know.
At rallys and fund-raisers, I’m always there on cue,
To give a speech or raise a toast, I stand ready to so do.
Or sing a Grand Old Party song, you’ll find me right on key,
And I search in vain for that sweet young thing who’d spend the night with me.
Alas, Republican women all are grand old dames,
Horse-faced and corpulent, yet loyal to their names.
But when we’ve had enough to drink, the barriers tumble down
And I awake amid underthings, corsets, stays and gowns.
Now the Democrats, I must say, I wish they’d go away
We can’t run the country like they want, not even for one day.
They’re poor, love to tax, won’t join the right clubs,
There isn’t one on the street that I wouldn’t like to drub.
Once I was up early morning just before noon,
I staggered bleary-eyed down the street and heard a catchy tune.
On the corner stood a band of them young Democrats,
But they could play, I must say, those dirty gutter rats.
A phamphlet-bearing girl comes up to me with a winsome smile
And melts my heart with her eyes; she has me beguiled.
I begin to talk politics with her and then with her consent
Together we walk down the street to her tenement.
She goes into another room, which causes me to blush,
And I’m undressed and in bed before I hear the flush.
Out she comes, fully clothed, another pamphlet in her hand
With shock on that pretty little face that soon had me unmanned.
I scramble out of there, my clothing in my arms
And she laughing merrily, for I’ve done her no harm.
I’ll go back home to my wife as quickly as I can
Safe in the arms of someone I trust, a true Republican.
(tag chorus) Diddle ‘em high, diddle ‘em low, and that’s the way this country goes.
The Singer-Songwriter Named Blue - God knows where this came from. I love songs with a human twist. This has a good one. Definitely not auto-biographical. RV - vocal, autoharp & guitar; JD - bass
C He flies all around without touching the ground,
A7 Leaps over buildings with a single bound.
D7 G He beats all the bad guys, surprises them, neutralizes them.
C He’ll change his clothes in a telephone booth,
A7 Does it all the time, now ain’t it the truth.
D7 G Mild-mannered newsman, out comes - Superman!
A7 SO He’s got a girlfriend we need never name;
D7 An 80 year courtship, but he’s not to blame.
B7 A super hero has no use for a dame,
D G Weddings are banned - for Superman!
He never gets older, he stays 31,
The fight against crime never is done.
Bad guys don’t give up, he shakes ‘em, Lord, never breaks ‘em.
He wears the same clothes, year after year,
Blue leotard suit, yes, a bit queer.
The red cape, Lord, makes me a fan - of Superman!
I’m Loving You Still - We farmed for many years, so this is partly autobiographical. Try to guess which parts are fiction and which aren’t. I’m not telling… but admit the repeated last lines are true. RV - vocal, 12 string & resonator guitar; JD - bass
The Way Back Home - From the “gospel lite” collection, a reflection on the “going home, avoiding temptation” themes. Sing it out, brethren and sistren! RV - vocal & harmony, 12 string guitar & banjo; JD - counter vocal & harmony + bass
Married - Sung in the person of someone else. Not me. I have no need to look around. RV- vocal, guitar, autoharp, & resonator guitar; JD - bass; TW - fiddle
The Fat Republican - Announced at an open mike, one of my conservative friends began to bristle & leave. Only he stayed & loved it. It’s not as political as you’d first think. RV - vocal & harmony, guitar & banjo; TW - bass
I’m Happy - Written when my wife & Daughters #1 & #2 were in Portugal. I missed her; she’s my life’s companion. She was touched - until I got to the last verse.Then she thought I was touched. RV - vocal, guitar; JD - harmony vocal, bass; KS - piano
That Old Guitar - Maybe someone will remember and sing this at my funeral. A guitar surviving its owner is a thought both endearing and enduring. One of many reasons guitars are important to me. JD - vocal & bass; RV - harmony vocal & guitar
God bless the wind that blew me here;
I thought I’d stay for just a year.
God bless the wind that blew me here
To the friends I hold dear.
I was a rover, now I’m done roving,
A rolling stone gathers no moss.
I found friends, didn’t know I needed,
Ones I might have lost.
They say that life’s a journey forward,
With random steps we place our feet.
Not knowing where we are going,
Not knowing who we’ll greet.
I know you’ll be there beside me
And hold my hand when I need a guide.
There for me, through life’s troubles
My friend, what e’er betide.
We’ll share good times and life’s treasures
And raise glasses high.
To the joy of life together,
Side by side, we will ride.
God bless the wind that blew me here
For the future holds no fear.
God bless the wind that blew me here
To the friends I hold dear.
Big hat with a brim the spotlights flash on him, who know what to expect?
With a forty year old guitar he’s had forever, the audience begins to connect.
His faded jeans, you know what that means, a weathered face, to give him his due.
Chambray work shirt, the man’s an expert, the singer-songwriter named Blue.
The message he sends of family and friends and strangers who all seem so real.
Songs of life true, adventures that he rues, his soul before them revealed.
It’s all about living, and fights about women, the good men and bad that he knew,
The places he’s traveled, and of lives unraveled, the singer-songwriter named Blue.
After the encores, he goes on outdoors, guitar and women in tow.
All around him they flock, there’s one in a frock who is special I know.
Her blue eyes they glisten, she intently listens; I’ll bet she loves him too.
She’d take dictation to the inspirations of the singer-songwriter named Blue.
“Herbie, do hurry ”, his mother worries, “You’ll be late for school.
Are you still dreaming?”, Now she’s screaming, like he’s broken some rule.
Concentration broken, he grabs the bus token, a fat pimply twelve year old Jew.
And no one knows that inside of him grows the singer-songwriter named Blue.
You see my girl, what you do is get on home for I mess w’ you.
You leave her be, she’s my own. You fool w’ her, I‘ll peel your bone.
What I tell you brother, shouldn’t have to say,
She’s mine, not yours, ‘n’ that’s every day.
You go on home, you stay outa my sight,
Keep away from her or I’ll fly your kite.
Your life will be worthless, if you get what I mean.
When I stuff you in my mean machine.
Turn you into sausage and I’ll ream your pipes
You’ll resemble scrambled eggs that were overly ripe.
Your face will be rasped and stapled and bled
Ears removed from the hairy part of your head.
Your nose flattened, stretched, and tied in a knot,
Eyes permanently crossed so you can see what you got.
I’ll grind your fingers down, drop anvils on your toes.
Stretch your cheeks open ‘n’ I’ll insert a rose.
Your arms twisted ‘n’ tied behind your neck,
You won’t be able to sign your dis - ability check.
I’m happy when I’m walking hand in hand with you.
I’m happy when I see you: Do I smile? Indeed I do.
I’m happy when I’m near you; but not when you’re away;
And it’s my greatest pleasure, to see you every day.
The morning seems aglow, dear, when you walk out the door,
Clouds retreat from sunshine sweet, they begin to soar.
Heavy rain stops falling, and never hits the ground;
Somehow it knows where’ere you go and never does come down.
Strangers always greet you when you walk along the street.
Little birds come calling; they flutter at your feet.
Mean dogs stop their growling, start to wag their tail.
Cats rub up against you and follow ‘long your trail.
Somehow my life seems brighter when you’re near to me,
And my burdens are much lighter; they turn tail and flee.
There’s a halo ‘round your head, dear; I swear I see it there;
A radiance surrounds you; it drives away my cares.
Bring It On - Bush the 2th’s words applied to global warning. Supposed to be tongue in cheek, told by someone who lives, as I do, in a colder climate. Only the climate deniers took it literally & love it too. So, it makes a good singalong for any group. RV - vocal & harmonies, guitar; TW - bass
Where Has Love Gone? - A lament for things gone wrong in our world, with a simplistic hope for a cure. This has sparked at least one church sermon. RV - vocal & harmonies, guitar; KS - piano; JD - bass
Superman - I love to play ragtime but rarely seem to create it. Since he is over 80 years old now, this should fit within the genre. The tune was too fun to not have words. RV - vocal, guitar, & kazoo; TW - bluegrass banjo & bass
I’ve seen all the cities, the villages and farms,
I’ve been most everywhere.
I’ve traveled the canal, crossed o’er mountains and fields,
Yet I miss my hometown, bright and fair.
You know I long for the lights in this dear old town of mine.
The town where each home is so cute.
The farms and the fields where the creek does flow
By my home in the little Town of Root.
I’ve seen Amsterdam, it did nothing for me,
All steep hills and sleepy factories.
Tribe’s Hill, Fort Hunter, only bumps in the road
That lead to the only town for me.
I worked in Gloversville, saw the inside of a jail
In Mayfield, where they don’t let you drink,
Fonda, Fultonville, up through Glen,
Rural Grove, near home again I think.
I’ve an aunt in Sprout Brook, I’ll visit her some day
And my cousins in the spot they call Buel.
Though they beg me to stay, I’ll head back through Ames,
Mapletown will see the back end of my mule.
I love the Mohawk as it winds beneath the Nose,
Flat Creek Falls is so very fair
Bear Swamp, Yatesville Creek, they smell like home to me;
I even like my neigh-bor’s dairy air.
Sky Marshmallows - A happy song which says you can be happy if you have a mind to. If only it was this easy! JD - vocal & bass; RV - vocal on chorus, guitar; KS - piano
They Call it Missouri - Being funny, my brother-in-law pronounces the State “Misery”. I hope my many friends there find it fun. Actually, I hope to offend everyone equally. And, yes, it’s a march. RV - vocal & harmony, guitar & banjo; JD - bass
I woke up early; the bed felt cold.
The note you left said our love had grown old.
And what has turned lovers to foes?
Weeping, I asked, “Where did love go?”
Where did love go, friend, where did it go?
And what has happened, why couldn’t it grow?
Why can’t we love each other again?
Where did love go, friend, where did it go?
Our country’s led by men born again.
The way that they act, it’s “We’re chosen, we’ll win”.
Throughout our land, new “churches” grow.
I say to all them, “Where did love go?”
Over there, men kill us - and their own,
Under guise of religion, they cast the first stone,
Church or mosque, they’re the Devil’s own pawn.
And who dares question, “Where has love gone?”
Holy Books tell us to love one another.
Where hate is preached, it’s brother on brother.
All round the world, we don’t get along.
That small voice asks us, ”Where has love gone?”
Wheels, Keep A-Turning ‘Round - I love the close harmony of the Delmore Brothers and wrote this easy-going song with them in mind. The forgotten lure of the rails. RV - vocal & harmony, guitar, resonator guitar & fretless banjo; JD - bass
God Bless the Wind - A song about the random turns our lives take and how friendship keeps us together. RV - vocal & harmony, guitar & banjo; JD - bass
Goodbye, Jack Daniels - I love to play old country music. This was intended to sit squarely in that genre, but I let things get away from me (thankfully). And it has a fun twist from our unrepentant lover. RV - vocal, guitar, banjeaurine; JD - bass
Pat and Mike’s Fight - Someone sent me a joke. Repurposing the melody of a quiet religious song I wrote, I completely “Irishinated” it. Proof that not all my songs are interminably long. RV - vocal & guitar; TW - tin whistle
You Leave Her Be - What might be done to someone who messes with his woman. The rose reference stems from a British movie with the Patient from Hell. Nursy says they need to take his temperature - anally. While exposed, she inserts a rose, which of course all the staff sees. RV - vocal & harmony, 12 string guitar; JD - bass
My Wld Lily Belle - I’ve hiked Jane Bald numerous times & have heard the siren’s song. It’s really about a beautiful but endangered species, lillium grayii. RV - vocal & harmony, guitar & resonator guitar, JD - bass
No signs point here; I call it home. The roads unfold where’ere I roam.
When I return, late at night, I look and find, yes, there’s a light.
Masses daily spill down the way, Boat and train can never stray.
They skip on by and never see God’s beauty here: it touches me.
Gentle fields, caressed by rain, then dowsed in sun, to grow again.
At last complete, I sing this song, at Rainbow’s End, my whole life long.
An old land here, by glaciers worn, soft mountains now, by ravines are torn
By shaky streams, brown cattle stand, symbol of this man-changed land.
In every field, farmers strive to fill each dream, their daily lives
Measured by rings on a frothy pond, the whitest gold, hands hard but fond.
Gentle fields, caressed by rain, then dowsed in sun, to grow again.
At last complete, I sing this song, at Rainbow’s End, my whole life long.
Commercial barons came from this land: Kaiser, Arkell, the Muffin Man,
To transform village into town, sooty skies, mansions abound.
That time too has gone by now, and stands alone the rusty plow.
Pastoral scenes here still unfold, worth more to me than even gold.
Gentle fields, caressed by rain, then dowsed in sun, to grow again.
At last complete, I sing this song, at Rainbow’s End, my whole life long.
Bring it on, bring it on, bring it on, bring it on.
We’ve no cause to gripe, the time’s about right, Global Warming’s overhyped,
Won’t you please bring it on.
(last time only) If I can be so bold, Global Warming’s oversold, let’s a-keep on burning coal and watch our bankrolls grow, it’s our kid’s future that we sold, we threw it in a hole... Won’t you please bring it on.
Well, we live here in God’s Country where you got 3 months of summer and 9 months of good snowmobiling ’n’ when you hafta spit, the juice cracks into afore it hits the ground. Fer hevin’s sake, I remember walking to school ‘n’ the snow’s so high we had to jump over the telephone wires....all uphill...both ways. But, we’re a tough lot ‘n’ we’ve allus been proud of what we done lived through..come summer. But, I’m a-gettin’ older ‘n’ Flor-i-day keeps looking better, but it’s a right smart ways from here ‘n’ I’m not sure about all them Cub-i-ans downs there neither,drinking them drugs and doing bad things.
Well, I picked me up a mag-i-zine the other day and here’s this article about something they’s a-callin’ Global Warming. It seems the Publicans voted for it ‘n’ the Demercrats voted agin it. And I read me more and, fer hevin’s sake, it done sounded like God’s Country gonna get warm purty soon if the Publicans get thur way ...‘n’ you know they will. Well, that were enuf to make me think some ‘bout these things.
Well, I done me some more reading in thur and, fer hevin’s sake, whadda you think I see? Them science fellas done been making claims that them ice caps ‘n’ glaciers ‘n’ stuff gonna melt away. Well, Hell, that don’t bother me none. Ain’t none of them things ‘round here nohow. They say all thet waters gonna make the ocean rise some. That don’t bother me neither. Ain’t no ocean ’round here thet I ever saw. I ain’t got no high rise condos ner summer homes on the beach neither. Let it flood, they’s too many of them things anyhow; let the ocean reach the homes of them poor folks what live back in ther a cupla blocks ‘n’ then they can have that ocean front insted. They talk bout that durn rain forest, well, Hell, we got trees ‘n’ rain enuff ‘round here for enybody. We don’t need go ‘round worryin’ ‘bout no tropical stuff down ther. I wanta see them tropics right here. Then I won’t havta trabble none to take me a vacation. Put them cruise ships in the Great Lakes insted.
Well, I turned the durn page ‘n’ there’s that guy ust to be Vice Presi-i-dent, the one our Pres-i-dent whupped so good down in Flor-i-dday, the one what invented thet internet they’s allus talkin’ ‘bout and, fer hevin’s sake, he’s done gone Hollywood on us ‘n’ he’s got this here movie out. Well, anyway,he’s a-tellin’ how bad this Global Warning is. Don’t believe him: he’s a Demercrat and just caint be up to no good, a durn trubble-maker first, movie star second. He oughta leave that movie business to them Hollywood pinkos and di-vor-cees.
Well. I ‘member our garden last year. Jest like usual, the termaters frosted afore they ripened, and them melons weren’t no good neither. Well,Hell, if it’s gonna get hotter here, maybe we’ll get them tomaters ‘n’ melons nex year. Mebbe we can even plant us some sweet potaters. Well, Hell, mebbe I won’t have to lay by so much cordwood. Mebbe the durn truck’ll start next winter and the tractor hydraulics won’t freeze. Fer Hevin’s sake, mebbe I won’t have ter lay them hay bales up against the trailer, ‘n’ mebbe I won’t have to crawl under it with the durn hair drier. Heck, mebbe the price a gas’ll come down, folks won’t burn so much heating oil. Just maybe I won’t have to go to Flor-i-day when I get old. Fer hevin’s sake, that Global Warming stuff is a good idee. You want my two cents, I say...
Rainbow’s End - It’s a beautiful & historic area here; just get off the highway to understand its pull. JD - vocal & bass; RV - harmony, guitar & slide guitar; KS - piano
Roland Vinyard,
"The Bard Rocks"
(Em) McCarthy’s Pub had this (D) advertised spe(Em)cial:
(Em) All you could eat - after (D) drinking five (B7) beers.
(Em) Too good to miss, we (D) found our own ta(Em)ble
(Em) And wondered (D) just what they (B7) called dinner (Em) here.
(G) Mutton and (D) fish balls, with (C) butterscotch (B7) dressing,
(Em) Boiled cabbage with (D) oatmeal, it’s (Em) not to be (B7) missed,
(G) A big bowl of (D) milk in which (C) pickles were (B7) floated,
(Em) You can’t stomach (D) them un(B7)less they are (Em) blessed.
(Em) They were broad in the (D) beam, and quite (Em) short amidship,
(Em) Round in the bow and (D) square in the (B7) stern.
(Em) Tougher than nails, the (D) size of a (Em) dinghy,
(Em) We threw them in the (D) fire to (B7) see if they’d (Em) burn.
(Em) They sat in the (D) fire, (Em) hissing and pissing,
(Em) The fire got weaker and (D) then it went (B7) out.
(Em) We got out a hand saw, they (D) broke the saw’s (Em) teeth out,
(Em) The Munster (D) pickles had (B7) won, there’s no (Em) doubt.
(Em) Father Flynn he rushed in, he’d (D) heard the (Em) big ruckus.
(Em) His eyes lit up, and he (D) danced with de(B7)light.
(Em) “Oh, bless you wonderful (D) Munster (Em)pickles”,
(Em) He grabbed the (D) thorniest, and (B7) took a big (Em) bite. (go to next verse)
(Em) We thought his eyes they might (D) burst from their (Em) sockets,
(Em) His face, it turned a most (D) Godawful (B7) red.
(Em) His feet danced a (D) jig while his (Em) nose began running,
(Em) With his face turned to (D) Heaven and (B7) here’s what he (Em) said.
(Em) Colcannon and champ, (D) corn beef, and (Em) trifle,
(Em) They might suit your fancy and (D) give you a (B7) tickle.
(Em) Dishreens, boiled crubeens, (D) coddle and (Em) ‘tatos,
(Em) But there’s none will com(D)pare with a (B7) big Munster (Em) pickle.
I married me the love of my life, a high-stepping little thing.
We’d go out ev’ry night, we’d drink, dance, ‘n’ sing.
‘Till one day she found the Lord, ‘n’ our fun come to an end.
Still, I go out each night to drink, ‘n’ hang out with my friends.
I’ve turned over a new leaf, got God on my team.
Goodbye, Jack Daniels, I’ve been redeemed.
I came home late last night, like I always do,
And she smelled the whiskey, so, what else is new?
She said, “While you sleep it off, I’m gonna pack”.
Doggone, she done and did it; I got to git her back.
Staggerin’ home last week, I kinda lost my way
Found me a revival, she’s there, sure as day.
When the preacher made the call for us sinners to repent,
I spoke in tongues as I crawled o the front of the tent.
Yes, I done got me saved, ‘n’ she come back home.
I made her promises, and I’ll keep ‘em - some.
You can’t teach old dogs new tricks, well, we’re gonna see.
This dog’ll learn new ways, cause I’ve been redeemed.
(extra chorus, in D)
I’ve turned over a new leaf, got God on my team.
Goodbye, Jack Daniels, Hello, old Jim Beam.
.