En sang til fyldebøtterne
13. marts 2017Drinking Song
Drunk men stagger, drunk men fall,
Drunk men swear and that’s not all,
Quite often they will urinate outdoors.
Like widowed women, drunk men weep,
Like children curled up, drunk men sleep,
Like a dog, a drunk will crawl around on all fours.Be he broke bum or rich rake, his dinner be it bread or cake
His beverage be the worse of whiskey, finest wine.
Puke it stinks and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight lineDrunks talk strong when drunks are weak,
It’s easy for a drunk to speak – straight from the heart
Yeah, drunks will fight they’re not afraid
To kiss the mistress, make the maid
It’s a manly art.Oh but big toll will take, blood vessels in nose will break
Bags beneath the eyes another signDrunks get ugly, so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
But there has yet to be a perfectly straight line.Drunks are friendly when they’re drunk and
Drunks are hostile when they’re drunk
Which drunk it is, it depends upon.
When drunks aren’t drunk, they thirst for drink,
The elephants are grey not pink
And the drink evaporates the man is gone, gone , goneBack to the yachts and the subway cars
The hip-flasks and fruit jars
Flat on the face and flat on the behindOh, drunks get drunk and so it seems that drunkards go to great extremes
There has yet to be a perfectly straight line.
Og så er tiden inde til et genhør med min musikalske ven Loudon Wainwright fra hans album II. Han er altid god for en kommentar til livets forskellige sider, både de pæne og de mindre pæne. Og altid med mindst et smil på læbet eller i øjenkrogen. Som her, hvor han besynger dem, der får en tår -eller flere – fordi livet nogle gange kan blive for nøgternt og ædrueligt. Og det er måske ikke altid til at holde ud…
