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A little blues for the holidays - a meaningless little thing !

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I play B7 = 021200 .

Song about misunderstandings - nations separated by a common language as they say.

When Big Joe came to town.

We put out the long red mat
When Big Joe came to town.
And he stood there in his boots and hat
Shakin hands all around.

Big Joe he came from Natches
By way of Portglenone
His mother tongue was rough
As any of our own.

It was when he started talkin,
And we tried to reply.
It was then the mix up started
No matter what we'd try

Divided by a common tongue
That's what we were
Dazed and confused
By a language that we share.
When a car has a boot and not a trunk
When  a honky-tonk's an old shebeen
And sheugh is nothin to do with corn,
Cos muck is what it means.

First he wanted a washroom
so I took him to the baths
Why he hid behind the bushes
I wasn't gonna ask.

When he asked me for a bourbon
And I handed him a biscuit
Well he called that a cookie,
And I knew I was losin' it.

I said we'd go out for the craic
But he said that he'd gone straight
I said I was glad for him
Considerin' his gait.

He got a cheer in the Busy Bee
When he said he stomped on hoods
Then got pulled of a car by the peelers,
Who would never have understood

It was in the bar where the bhoyos drink
He nearly lost the plot
When he said he could care less
And nearly got me shot

But we came to a simple solution
Gave each other plenty of space
Let the whole scheboombang sort itself
So no one would lose face.

I was in two or three minds whether to post this. It's about love and Ireland and the mess politics have made of both. This is Narrow Water Castle - http://www.newryandmourne.gov.uk/touris … r_keep.asp .

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I play

Asus4 - 002030
C6    - 002010
G6add9 (no 3rd) - 000030

Just a silly poem - I may ressurrect the chorus for something else.

Some Days are Meant.

Some days are meant for singin'
So that's just what I do
Some days are meant for lovin'
Those days I dream of you
Some days are meant for thinkin,
Long and hard and all
The best days are meant for kissin'
You'll find those are the days I call.

I missed you on that Monday
You were dryin' out your hair.
Or so you screamed through the letter box
From halfway up the stair.

I missed you on the Tuesday,
Clothes not back from the 'drette
I didn't know there was one,
And I've never found it yet.

I missed you on the Wednesday
You said the cat was sick
But I saw it scratchin' it's ass in the driveway
There was nothing wrong with it

On Thursday I took to wonderin'
If there was more than met the eye
Of course I volunteered the notion
It might be some other guy.

So I came back on the Friday
'Course you asked me where I'd been
I said is that a pair of boots I see
Or are my old eyes lying.

Well you chased me all round Saturday,
Nearly caught me one time too
Till I discovered you liked the chase
And turned the tables on you.

Well, I saw the Doctor on the Sunday night
For the black eye and the nose
I don't blame you, if the cat had moved
I wouldn't have got those.

Distances Deceive.

On one side of the world you are cryin'.
And there's nothing I can do
No way to reach and help
No way to comfort you

It's distance that deceives
I can see you
I can hear you
Your the one in my heart
And I love you
But you're in a different day
Far, so very far away
And I can't reach out and touch you.

You're here on this screen before me,
Who thought that this would ever do.
I try to dry the tears on your cheeks
But this shaking hand it can't pass through

So I listen to you weeping
And I watch your shoulders heaving
But all I have is words
That not even I believe in.

And I'm as mute as desert dust.
I'm as worthless as the sand.
The right words kicked from under me.
Guess that's cos I'm a man.

Then it comes time to drop the link
And, blink, your face is gone.
I'm left here empty as the arid miles
That stood between us all along.

Wanted a twist on the old line " I'm a survivor". Think I got that - with just a hint of menace too.

I'm a survivor

I'm a survivor
Just arrived at your front door.
If I could trouble you for a glass of water,
I won't ask for nothin' more.

I won't hang around your kitchen,
I won't dawdle in the hall
I won't comment on the pictures
No, you won't see me at all.

Cos I'm a survivor,
I'm the guy it happened to.
A whipping boy, a scape goat,
Now, ain't that the truth ?

I won't drop my boots beneath the stairs,
Won't ask you for a bed,
Won't even ask for stiff'un o'whiskey
Not so much as a slice of bread.

No. I came here cos I made it
And I wanted you to know
That the guy you thought you'd sent to hell
Soaked up every low blow.

Yes, I'm a survivor
And the thing that I've gotta say
Is that honour means more than vengeance
Though that may still see it's day.

But for now, I'll leave contented
Happy to see the fright in your eye,
I'll leave you here to ponder,
If I'll come back to take what's mine ?