Lyrics

CHORUS:
Now the haying is over and the milking's done
And we're going down Mike's to have a little fun
Sitting right on the two-lane couple miles from town
Yeah we're going down Mike's to hang around

VERSE:
All the men go down there almost every night
Though there ain't no liquor and there ain't no fights
Just a broken down sofa and a stool and a chair
You get all the late news from here to there

VERSE:
Now Mike is a blind man but he knows the roads
And every building from here to Nanticoke
Sell you an ice-cream or a quart of oil
They say he almost killed a man back in 1944

VERSE:
You've seen big men well Cec is not too small
Above his chair there's a hole where his head rubs against the wall
A cigar and a sandwich and a chew and a beer
He's hauling heifers since he quit the State last year

VERSE:
Now one Christmas evening old Cec came by
And Mike had closed up at a half-past nine
Cec banged on the front door got Mike out of bed
"You should've known better," that's all Cec said

VERSE:
Timmy came down here from up by 'York state
He didn't have no guard-een (guardian) when his folks passed away
He'll tell you what he's thinking with a twinkle in his eye
Or he won't say nothing just sit and watch it all go by

VERSE:
In the middle of the circle there's a cardboard box
Full of candy-wrappers and somebody's old socks
Tobacco juices and cigarette ends
It's the box that the high school's computer came in

VERSE:
Johnny's always nervous he will not sit down
He's stands by the front door waving his hands around
He went shopping for a tractor but she's way out of reach
He gets up on his tip-toes he says, " Boys she's a peach"

VERSE:
They call Harry Ragweed a long long tale I think
And Sicky can't stand him when Sicky takes a drink
Now he's yelling at Ragweed but the bite is not the bark
"The whole family's worthless," he says, "every goddamn Clark"

VERSE:
Everybody's laughing Sicky turns to John
Johnny's telling how Georgie took a leak in front of his mom
"Just how old are you, boy," Sicky can't believe it's true
Johnny's up on his tip-toes he says, "Forty-two"


Karl Williams

© Canny Lark Music