Saturday, April 28, 2012

Saturday Song Salute

It's Saturday Song Salute and in keeping true to the spirit of the Oregon Garden Brewfest that I'll be attending tonight, I've chosen one of my favorite drinking songs. I think this song was originally performed by The Dubliners, but has since been revisited by many (if not all) bands with an Irish punk sheen to them. It's called 7 Drunken Nights and the version I play here is performed by a Chicago-based Celtic punk rock band called The Tossers. I first heard this song several years ago, it was being played by a live band in the corner of a dingy bar. There were many in the audience who knew the lyrics and it was a moment of pure pleasure watching them and the band sing along to this tale of a drunkard and his adulterous wife. So go grab your headphones and a big-ass beer, and maybe your girlfriend's butt, because this song is a lot of fun. Enjoy!
Seven Drunken Nights

As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

Sunday, April 1, 2012

In My World


in my world
(a poem by Mick Tomlinson)


last night
the four of us wanted to experience
life past midnight,
life past last call,
strife as it wrestled for life inside
the jaws of a hungry fox.
we sat around the table
discussing holes:
in education, inside our souls, in the universe.
at one point I managed to slip away
through the swinging saloon doors,
out back where the cooks
were getting high and counting bricks
in the wall that was their prison.
I listened to passing traffic,
I listened to the sound of tires on rain-soaked pavement
and realized it's the same sound my hole makes
when running against the wind.
we are all just barely hanging on
at times-
to our jobs, to our lovers, to our faith
in the future.
we are fox-jawed and fighting for our lives,
we have stories to tell and piles of books
we'll never read.
this is life behind the blinds of a billion beings.
later that night we joined hands
while the three of you took a leap of faith with me.
shoes off, naked toes dipped
into a seven minute dream.
in my world,
geometry makes love to rainbows
and the universe reveals herself
through an open hole.
we began to fall off, one by one
until only two of us were left standing:
man, woman..
carnivores at the break of dawn,
hungry for more
than just one night of cigarettes and wine,
another dull romance.