couple of tunes form a fave old band, on the album the song F-Hole segues into the song Labelled With Love
I wrote her name on a bar mat, she had a peculiar bonnet,
But a youngish damsel figure with her tongue tied to a trigger,
She seemed a total killer, her face all filled with filler,
Her face a painting palette, I stomached all her habits,
Sipped her snowballs poshly like a judge but left her lipstick traces on her mug.
We watched each other closely, she looks like Bela Lugosi
She asked me for a ride home, I felt around for my comb
And in the barroom mirror, I combed right through her figure
She wiggled through the car park into the pit of my heart
Sat herself beside me in my van, a ring on every finger of her hand.
She lived down by the river, a flat the council give her
Wallpaper very scenic, her outlook very beatnik
We watched the close and weather, then through the door he entered
Short sleeves and arms of iron and me with just my tie on
She said the lodger's used to this by now I'd handled all the bull but not the cow
Behind her velvet sofa, I found myself back sober
She kept an old acoustic, she never ever used it
A gift for me with a capo, a six string with an f-hole
We made the strangest couple, a Laurel & Hardy double
I learnt to play her favorite country songs
With one or two chords always going wrong
She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle
And shuffles about in her candlelit hovel
Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens
She smells like the cat and the neighbors she sickens
The black and white T.V. has long seen a picture
The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture
The postman delivers the final reminders
She sells off her silver and poodles and china
Drinks to remember, I, me and myself
And winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
During the wartime an American pilot
Made every air raid a time of excitement
She moved to his prairie and married the Texan
She learnt from a distance how love was a lesson
He became drinker and she became mother
She knew that one day she'd be one or the other
He ate himself older, drunk himself dizzy
Proud of her features, she kept herself pretty.
Drinks to remember, I, me and myself
And winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
He like a cowboy died drunk in his slumber
Out on the porch in the middle of summer
She crossed the ocean back home to her family
But they had retired to roads that were sandy
She moved home alone without friends or relations
Lived in a world full of age reservation
On moth-eaten armchairs she'd say that she'd sought all
The friends who had left her to drink from the bottle.
Drinks to remember, I, me and myself
And winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
Drinks to remember, I, me and myself
And winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf
Home is a love that I miss very much
So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
The past has been bottled and labelled with love
The past has been bottled and labelled with love
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Letty
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Fri 26 Mar, 2010 07:21 pm
edgar, That one by Buffy was good, but she has a vibrato that was unusual for her. I compared it to Cripple Creek and she was definitely better then.
No matter. She is one great lady. Incidentally, thanks once again for the comments that you made on all the music that we play her.
dj, F Hole by Squeeze was funny. Laurel and Hardy? loved those comparisons, Canada.
I enjoyed Labelled With Love by them. Especially liked the line "...the past has been bottled and labeled with love..."
Time for me to say goodnight, and I think that I shall do so with an unusual one by Dino.
edgar, as you know I adore Tony Martin. I think it has to do with my older sister. I especially like Domino by him. Thanks, Texas. I'm gonna check later, but I think that he is still with us.
Well, folks, today is Mariah Carey's birthday, so here she is with a song whose melody is quite familiar and has been sung by someone else.
edgar, you sent me to the archives again. You were right, as usual.
Hey, mooseman. I need to check out Steve Perry, but you, too, are spot on. Didn't much like the one you played by Mariah.
Shucks! Today is Michael York's birthday as well as Trish Ven Devere's, but I couldn't find a decent performance of Michael as "the cat" Tybalt, and since we have already done The Changeling with Trish and George. (excellent movie), I think that I shall play a song for Saturday.
My pal met Chas Chandler once, in Newquay. He is the one on the Epiphone bass.
Chas Chandler was the guy who met Jimi Hendricks in New York, unknown and playing small gigs, and he persuaded him to come to England, where he hit the big time.
Thanks, McTag. I knew you would know. Now back to my out of tune spinet to try again. Thanks for the added info concerning Jimi Hendricks, buddy. I also wondered about the instruments besides the guitar.
Incidentally, this is for Rockymoose. I rather like this guy.
Ah, edgar. Tim Buckley's Morning Glory was beautiful but sad. The line, "...tell me stories I told to the hobo..." was so profound.
Timothy Charles Buckley III (February 14, 1947 " June 29, 1975) was an American vocalist and musician who went through many distinct phases spanning the late 1960s and early 1970s, in which he incorporated aspects of folk, jazz, psychedelia, funk, soul, and avant-garde rock. He died when he was 28 years old, survived by his wife and adopted son Taylor, and his biological son from an earlier marriage, Jeff (who later became a well-known musician in his own right)
Horrible that he died because of a combination of drugs and alcohol.
I played this one on Izzie's boat, and I have found mixed meanings to it, y'all.
