Whiskey And Chocolate Ice Cream

I have got to admit that the Oracle is just plumb tuckered out. The pressure of coming up with brilliant and insightful articles day after day is taking its toll. Yes, I can hear the voices asking when all this brilliant writing is gonna start occuring, but I choose to tune them out - especially that of my bride, the Belle of Ballast Point (just kidding dear).

Since I am feeling a bit like that old man in Peter Bowen's song, Feather Ben, I am going to take a few days off to just live on whiskey and chocolate ice cream.

That sure tasted good, the old man said.
I’ll have another, as long as you’re buyin’
I’d like to live on whiskey and chocolate ice cream.
I’d move some place where it’s warm in December
And pretend there’s more time than I’ve got.

Chocolate ice cream, and good bourbon whiskey.
And some kind old lady, who’ll make me take baths.
I’ll have steak twice week, and chicken on Sundays
I worked hard all my life, is that too much to ask.

Can you play any Hank Williams, or old cowboy songs?
Can you play a damned thing that’s worth listenin’ to.
Hell, I’m just an old drunk, don’t ya pay me no mind.
You been too good for me to talk that way to.

That sure tasted good, the old man said.
I’ll have another, as long as you’re buyin’
I’d like to live on whiskey and chocolate ice cream.
I’d move some place where it’s warm in December
And pretend there’s more time than I’ve got.

I fought in three wars, raised me three children.
Never learned nothin’, but the size of my shirt.
The wars didn’t help, my damned kids ain’t worth shit.
But I ain’t complainin’, things could have been worse

You damned kids with your lovers whose last names you don’t know.
At least I could always fit the name with the ass.
I had my good times, and nights that was golden,
You can keep yours, it ain’t even good grass.

That sure tasted good, the old man said.
I’ll have another, as long as you’re buyin’
I’d like to live on whiskey and chocolate ice cream.
I’d move some place where it’s warm in December
And pretend there’s more time than I’ve got.

It’s way past my bedtime, I’ve rambled enough.
You kids be good, if that’s important to you.
You’re lookin’ ahead to them beers and them women.
And I’m lookin’ back, and it’s better from here.

That sure tasted good, the old man said.
I’ll have another, as long as you’re buyin’
I’d like to live on whiskey and chocolate ice cream.
I’d move some place where it’s warm in December
And pretend there’s more time than I’ve got.
And pretend there’s more time than I’ve got,
Lord I wish there’s more time than I’ve got.

As a side comment, the best version of Bowen's song that I ever heard was by Rosalie Sorrels on the Travelin' Lady Rides Again CD.