A Case Of Making Lite,
Down at the Ol’ Molson brewery
Somebody got pissed and agitated,
First, drunkeness in the first degree,
Now a killer hangover, and terminated.
Soon he turned to drinking,
Tossing back the beers,
Sitting alone, spirits sinking,
Dark eyes drip with hoppy tears.
Since they repealed Prohibition
It’s his legal and constitutional Right,
His amended defended Rightful position-
Barkeep, you’re bound to serve him till he’s tight.
We’re free to get totally trashed
In a pub, a private club, like, say the NRA?
But expect to get completely smashed
If you try to take their licences away.
When it comes to being a defendant
Of all the rights that keep us free
The importantest is our Second Amendment
Says the NRA to its blind unblinking army.
How much Dutch courage does it take
To spur a mad man into action?
To drunkenly lash out and make
A tragedy out at his dissatisfaction?
When a mans mind is corroded
With a case of the devils brew,
If the ol’ circuits get overloaded,
May he not pop off a shot or two?
No, we no longer roam the range,
We don’t- usually- shoot up the saloon,
But if’n the ol’ NRAs position don’t ever change
We’re gunna keep playing that ol’ funereal tune.
…Why not pick up that six-pack?
Forget about work, and going back…
It’s all too easy to wipe the foam
Away from a well inebriated lip,
And return to work, and not go home,
Packing a loaded pistol on your hip.