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  1. At the Bar

Lyrics

At the Bar

The marabou stork is dancing
So stiff and sedate
Bowing and advancing
And turning to his mate
The tribesmen they are fishing
Hot wind blows of the land
I’m in a bar in Eureka
With a bottle of beer in my hand
A beer in my hand
A beer in my hand

The arctic wind is keening
Over frozen snow
A pair skis are leaning
In the dying embers glow
The Lapp watching his reindeer
Fingers boyhood scar
And I’m in a place called Jimmy’s Space
Holding my own at the bar
My own at the bar
My own at the bar

The general on the TV
Is lying through his teeth
And clinging to the lectern
In simulated grief
The peasants in the paddy
Still whistle as they hoe
And I’m out back of The One Eyed Jack
With a bottle of Old Crow
Of Old Crow
Of Old Crow

In a cube of glass and marble
High up on the hill
As the millionaire lies dying
His kids contest the will
Some find torment in heaven
And some content in hell
Just one more pass across my glass
Then I’ll bid you fare you well
Fare you well
Fare you well

© Willi Kerr 2012

© The Curst Sons 2014