She unscrews the top of a new whiskey bottle
   And shuffles about in her candle lit hovel,
   Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens
   She smells like the cat and the neighbours she sickens,
   The black and white t.v. has long seen a picture
   The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture,
   The postman delivers the final reminders
   She sells off her silver and poodles in China.
   Drinks to remember, I me and myself
   And winds up the clock
   And knocks dust from the shelf
   Home is a love that I miss very much
   So the past has been bottled and labelled with love.
  
   During the war time an American pilot
   Made every air raid a time of excitement,
   She moved to his prairie and married the Texan
   She learnt from a distance how love was a lesson,
   He became drinker and she became mother
   She knew that one day she'd be one or the other,
   He ate himself older, drunk himself dizzy
   Proud of her features, she kept herself pretty.
  
   He like a cowboy died drunk in his slumber
   Out on the porch in the middle of summer,
   She crossed the ocean back home to her family
   But they had retired to roads that were sandy,
   She moved home alone without friends or relations
   Lived in a world full of age reservation,
   On moth eaten armchairs she'd say that she'd sod all
   The friends who had left her to drink from the bottle.