Every Saturday the nighthawks pile into the diner
on the corner of Marigold and Vine
Coffee for a dime, but the waitress cost extra
Pigs in a blanket and daffy on the tube;
coffee taste like late night rendezvous;
laughs and memories of Saturday night

In a booth sits a lonely blonde smoking a Chesterfield
drinking cold coffee with yesterday's cream
wearing a black and blue dress to match the color of her eye
Her man ran out with all her money, so she waits;
because it's too cold outside where the bums are fast asleep
and she's not ready for the next resurrection

A solitary sailor sits at the counter wearing a p-coat
and crackerjack hat waiting for the waitress to come back
Her rhinestone studded name tag say's, Irene;
the name of a Maxwell House coffee queen
with scrambled egg yellow in her hair
A real doll for the late night crowd

Outside the Texaco sign burns a red white and blue special
while the paper man hawks his morning late night edition
Across the street the Park and Drive
is filled with yesterdays Coupé deville
awaiting the coming dawn

Sun slowly punches another day into the sky,
spilling a carpet of diamonds from its guts
as the city sweeps away the cobwebs and decay;
all the promises of another Saturday night.

"Hey Jack, when did you get back in town?"

"Hey man, I didn't even know what town I was in."

"Didn't know what town."

"No man, what town is this this?" 

"Oh Jack, you kill me."


Memories of Saturday Night (Lyrics in description)

Midnight approaching
cannon thunders on
here in the highlands
where we shed our bones
caught in the crossfire
we try to stay warm
drink up your courage lads
with fathers and sons

Like geese in a grinder
huddled in dark rain
shot through the shoulder
curse through the pain
come another morning
as the band plays the song
charge across the fields lads
with fathers and sons

Haven't seen my wife in three years
lost her locket in the battle of Shiloh  
but she will carry me 
into the battle below 

My son lost his leg at 
Lee's victory of Chancellorsville
walking on homemade crutches now
he followed Lee across the Potomac
into Maryland  
Sweet Home Maryland  

Now we gear for battle at Gettysburg
let the blue dogs know 
the gray boys have come 
bringing sharpshooters and canons 
and fathers and sons 
(fathers and son)

Bang the drum slowly
for the long road that runs
close to the blood
that covers everyone
holding the line
till morning is come
buried in the meadows
fathers and sons

fathers and sons
(fathers and sons)
fathers and sons
(fathers and sons)
fathers and sons
(fathers and sons)

buried in the meadows
fathers and sons


Gettysburg (Fathers and Sons) (Lyrics in description)

God Gave It A Name

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