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.