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|Viewing Lyrics for Milton:|
|Album:||C.w. Mccall & Co.|
|Lyrics:||Now, i'll tell ya a tale that'll bust yer heart|
That only a few people knew, ta start
all took place when our concert tour was booked at the seatac hilton?
I'll guarantee ev'ry
word's the gospel truth
Got witnesses ta prove it, too,
'cause we all toured with a fella
by the name a' milton
Now milton was o-fficial tour director,
piano-playin' plug connector
An' the slave-drivin'-est travel conductor
That we ever seen
in our lives
He'd say "whaddya mean, ya need more rest?
"the world don't care
whether ya look yer best!
"simply show up promptly at six a.m. with your instruments
...and your wives!"
[choir; in sorta of "bringing in the sheaves"
Shall we gather at the airport?
He'd always arrive in the nick a' time
good five minutes ahead a' flight time
A-lookin' like he'd been drug through a needle's
He'd stand there, stoned and about ta choke
On his egg mcmuffin an' his giant
An' then he'd throw all the tickets on the counter and say
"check the bags and
"well, whaddya mean, this is too much weight?
"we only got
forty-six pieces a' freight!
"and if it don't go, who's gonna explain it to our fan club
We'd all get embarassed an' head for the plane
While milton stood
there, bein' profane
But somehow he always managed ta get on board ...in sort of a coma
When the drinks were served up yonder...
Well, we deplaned at th'
All the trouble seemed to commence again
Though milton had ordered three station
wagons, a pickup truck and a limo
And though he'd phoned ahead to that number two
an' fussin' an' turnin' blue
We'd always end up with two datsoons and a pinto
milton took all a' that stuff in stride
Laid on the floor, an' kicked an' cried
always looked up to him for hope and salvation
But we'd sink to the bottom a' trav'lers
When he'd check us in a remote motel
And he'd grab the clerk by his shirt an' tie an'
"whaddya mean, ¿no reservacines?"
He'd shut himself in room one-oh-four
Let nobody in 'til he swept the
Adjusted the lampshade, aligned the tv, fixed the faucet, called the promoter
"well, whaddya mean we're the warmup show?
"you're puttin' me on! we're stars, ya
"and this ain't the way we was treated last summer at six flags over dakota!
"now we gotta have a hunnert percent top billing,
"two-thirds in advance, a' course,
"i'm sure we prefer a chauffered limosine and two air-conditioned dressing
"i'm what? well, so's your wife! she's not? well, to each his own.
"beg pardon, stick it in my what? well, really, merle who?"
William morris, keep us working...
Now, milton was a real good friend a' mine
we'd stuck together on down that line
But there was one or two points over which we just had to
necessarily an assurance that the crowd ain't gonna start throwin' tomatas
An' when ya arrive
at four for a five o'clock show
An' the stage ain't built an' there's no electricity
all ya could do is sit on yer butt an' cut bait
However, you give ol' milton four strong
bodies, a nine-foot grand, a beer and a cigarette
An' you just knew that show was gonna be
Bringing in the bread
Bringing in the bread...
Now one night up there in washington
We didn't get paid for a show we'd done
poor ol' milton couldn't live with that; his brain just shorted out.
Well, he locked himself in
An' then when he didn't come out for an hour an' a half
We figgered that
somethin' was wrong, but we had to remove all doubt
We stood transfixed in shock and
When we busted down that there bathroom door
And i hope i never see a sight like
that again; no, i don't
There was nothin' to do but close our eyes, an' bow our heads, an'
With a silent five-part acapella hymn, for him
What a friend
we had in milton...
Now we're gettin' ready, come next december
To put another
concert tour together
And i'm sad to say ol' milton ain't a-gonna be with us
No, it ain't
gonna be exactly the same
When they introduce us without his name
So milton, wherever you
are, we hope you miss us!
See, milton has moved on down the road
Over the rainbow, lookin'
Yeah, he's up there where the stage lights is always on
But we can't forget that
When last we saw him a-settin' there
Holdin' his tambourine, suckin' his thumb,
an' sound asleep on the john
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