(Words & music: A. Latimer)
Dedicated to Lorne Dufour, without whom being down
and out in Vancouver would have been a lot less fun
just sitting, thinking sad,
Waiting for the mail
thinking about the hard times that prevail
Well I guess she's got arthritus
And just can't hold a pen
I'll never send my old lady logging again!
Sent her up to Gambeir booming grounds
She's tough and mean and weighs
About ninety five pounds
I even bought new caulk boots
Size four if you please
And nice warm pants
So her pretty little arse won't freeze!
There ain't no jobs around in this old town
Hey buddy, all you gotta do is look around
All the bums are tired and dying
And the whores are hungry in the streets
There ain't no use in wearing out your feet
It really makes me mad
When the mail don't come
The blokes down at the pub think I'm a bum
I've spent me missus' paycheck
And the welfare comes next week
If it wasn't for the muck
I'd drown myself in False Creek
Curly: acoustic guitar; Dennis : acoustic bass;
Chris: trumpet
Al Cross
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