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Ode To Dive Bars

from Buck Or Two Buckaroo by Boots & The Hoots

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lyrics

Let me tell you a story of an old greasy spoon,
a honky tonk dive bar, a roadhouse saloon.
Once a boogie 'til you puke joint forty years ago.
Now a rundown motel tables bolted to the floor.
There's a boombox on the jukebox both with out of service signs
As if they'd both once worked but they've served their time
A sign on the wall read 'fight once barred for life'
It was busted down the middle from a rowdier night.

The only fried chicken left is necks and a gizzard
The waitress is workin' double duty an ol' lot lizard
I'd never seen gravy so thin in my life
Coffee so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Conversations are scarce if you'd call 'em that.
Grunts between gulps and chewin' the fat.
Beer soaked funny pages hung on the ice chest.
Like they once had a sense of humor but that's all that's left.

Tip jar is empty except a cigarette and a dime.
There's an old blue tick hound just watchin' the flies.
The jar of pickled eggs has seen better days.
Only one egg left discoloured and misshaped.
All the smokers round the ashtray like moths to a flame.
I really oughtta quit, one of 'em proclaims
The cook and dishwasher are having a smoke of their own.
Finest grass in the county, hydroponically grown.
There's a shower round back, coin operated.
It's a just like home only more dilapidated
'diner and lounge' the neon sign once displayed.
Now it reads 'die alone' as clear as day..

credits

from Buck Or Two Buckaroo, released October 1, 2022
Mark 'Boots' Graham - Vocals, Acoustic Guitar
Catherine Robertson - Fiddle
Keith Rodger - Double Bass
Tyler Allen - Banjo

Recorded and mixed live by Ian Dillon
Assistant recording engineers - Carson Dillon & Connor HD

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Boots & The Hoots Drumheller, Alberta

"Hardcore, traditional, songs of leavin', drinkin', and losin', but mainly drinkin', all enhanced by a tight rhythm section and plenty of of steel guitar. " - Country Music People Magazine 5 Star Review of "III"

" Wittily crafted, downtempo western melodies, a cactus in the ass of modern, power-ballad country crooners that forgot the music of their grandfathers." -EXCLAIM! Magazine ... more

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