"Daydream of the Warhorse"
1980 music by B.G.Matthews - words by D.WGillison

The old warhorse tugs at his earlobe and ventures down memory lane,
ring-nosed and varicose brained, he picks up his walking cane.

Strolling past park benches, clacking along wooden fences,
his capitol offenses, assaulting at his senses.
Remembering the wenches, submissive and convulsive,
most of them were too repulsive.
But for Apple-Pie Betty, holding herself firm and steady,
while ticker-tape confetti, flies snaking in the air, entangled in our hair.

Celebrations, county fairs, at the bordellos on the border,
defying law and order, with a "hello" and a quarter,
to accomadate the girls, sun-shining on their curls.
Silver lining, clouds unfurling.

In the skies of the Scottish meadows, twilight in Spanish ghettos,
day turning into night, turn on the Spanish lights, black lace and nylon tights.

And along a flowing stream, he awakens from his dream,
to a tavern he is led, where he's felling rather queer,
and he's scratching at his head, and he's tugging on his ear....lobe.

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© 1980 brugama music