i used to include these next two songs on most mixtapes i made, people would get really freaked out by the title of the first song, until i explained that an f-hole refers to the cut outs found on some guitars, something they would have figured out by the end of the first song
the first song segued into the second, it being one of the country tunes she loved that he learned to play
F-Hole
Squeeze
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 snow balls 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 bar room 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 and Hardy double,
I learnt to play her favourite country songs
With one or two chords always going wrong
Labelled With Love
Squeeze
She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle
And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel,
Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens
She smells like the cat and the neighbours 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 in 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 war time 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.
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 sod 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.
The past has been bottled and labelled with love.
