jack reminiscing
felice brothers, the
well my pa was always in gloom
and his hat was made of raccoon
he was drunk in the afternoon
and his mind was like a trap
where he kept a hand-drawn map
how to get to the arkansas flats
from the lights of broadway
and the holy men always say
in that city beyond the stars
and she'd make him a cup of joe
and he'd drink it like an eskimo
and she'd bake him a mincemeat pie
and he'd drink when his mouth was dry
and he died on the fourth of july
and the holy men always say
in that city beyond the stars
and i'd sing of the arkansas trout
but now i'm always in gloom
and my hat is made of raccoon
and i'm drunk in the afternoon
and the holy men always say
in that city beyond the stars