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Did You ever get real drunk and have a song pop into Your head? “It’s the Muse! Penetrating the fog and delivering this marvelous gift!” You franticly write it down. You read it the next morning (around noon) and it’s the worst piece of $#!+ You ever saw. This is one of those. Yeah, no one ever does one of those songs for You. We just ball them up and throw them away or delete them as fast as we can, thanking the Good Lord that nobody saw ‘em. So I thought I’d trot one out, run it up the flagpole and let the cat sniff it.
Hobo Whiskey Woman
Ain’t no whiskey like my woman on a freight train She hopped me like a hobo headed south Ruled only by the season and the high cost of Heaven She conducted her caboose like she was burnin down the house.
Ain’t no campfire like my hobo whiskey woman Lord, she’s a grease cake natural surprise Glowin through the wax of a deep, patchouli candle Dancin snappin mackerel in the Scrooge light of her eyes
Glora zannah ordy lou a hoo yah Ring them golden slipper tongues for me Pavin on the walkin streets of Jordan Chili river peppers ain’t but all it’s gonna be
Ain’t no blues song like my woman blowin smoke rings Text message monkey on the phone That thing between her golden lies reminds me Of fishy onions fryin on a garlic trombone
Ain’t no ’57 Cadillac horn honkin Like my woman goin full-tilt porcupine I’ll believe it when the rapture gets a flat tire From leavin skid marks on this mind of mine
Rock a hula glory zan a loo yah Hostess cakes and pearly gates and wine All aboard for score with seven angels Left danglin like a silk purse on the vine
Cheese banana peanut butter freight train Stoned idol itchin on a fuzzy tree The cannonball stalled, and Casey, he’s a cussin Huffin and puffin, waitin for You and me And Jerry Lee
### Bonus: The World's Worse Blues Song: Woke Up This Mawnin
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