C.w. Mccall - Milton Lyrics
Now, Ill tell ya a tale thatll bust yer heartThat only a few people knew, ta startIt all took place when our concert tour was booked at the seatac hilton?Ill guarantee evry words the gospel truthGot witnesses ta prove it, too,cause we all toured with a fella by the name a miltonNow milton was o-fficial tour director,Electrical piano-playin plug connectorAn the slave-drivin-est travel conductorThat we ever seen in our livesHed say whaddya mean, ya need more rest?The world dont care whether ya look yer best!Simply show up promptly at six a.m. with your instruments ...and your wives![choir; in sorta of bringing in the sheaves way]Shall we gather at the airport?Hed always arrive in the nick a timeA good five minutes ahead a flight timeA-lookin like hed been drug through a needles eyeHed stand there, stoned and about ta chokeOn his egg mcmuffin an his giant cokeAn then hed throw all the tickets on the counter and sayCheck the bags and lets fly!Well, whaddya mean, this is too much weight?We only got forty-six pieces a freight!And if it dont go, whos gonna explain it to our fan club in tacoma?Wed all get embarassed an head for the planeWhile milton stood there, bein profaneBut somehow he always managed ta get on board ...in sort of a coma[choir]When the drinks were served up yonder...Well, we deplaned at th other endAll the trouble seemed to commence againThough milton had ordered three station wagons, a pickup truck and a limoAnd though hed phoned ahead to that number twoCussin an fussin an turnin blueWed always end up with two datsoons and a pintoNow milton took all a that stuff in strideLaid on the floor, an kicked an criedBut we always looked up to him for hope and salvationBut wed sink to the bottom a travlers hellWhen hed check us in a remote motelAnd hed grab the clerk by his shirt an tie an sayWhaddya mean, ¿no reservacines?[choir]Miltons getting bolder...Hed shut himself in room one-oh-fourLet nobody in til he swept the floorAdjusted the lampshade, aligned the tv, fixed the faucet, called the promoterWell, whaddya mean were the warmup show?Youre puttin me on! were stars, ya know!And this aint the way we was treated last summer at six flags over dakota!Now we gotta have a hunnert percent top billing,Two-thirds in advance, a course, you silly!Im sure we prefer a chauffered limosine and two air-conditioned dressing rooms, please.Im what? well, sos your wife! shes not? well, to each his own.Beg pardon, stick it in my what? well, really, merle who?[choir]William morris, keep us working...Now, milton was a real good friend a mineAn wed stuck together on down that lineBut there was one or two points over which we just had to dee-bateLike takin-your-clothes-off-an-hangin-from-a-cross-in-front-a-the-tri-county-fairgroundsIs not necessarily an assurance that the crowd aint gonna start throwin tomatasAn when ya arrive at four for a five oclock showAn the stage aint built an theres no electricityAbout all ya could do is sit on yer butt an cut baitHowever, you give ol milton four strong bodies, a nine-foot grand, a beer and a cigaretteAn you just knew that show was gonna be ...outta state[choir]Bringing in the breadBringing in the bread...Now one night up there in washingtonWe didnt get paid for a show wed doneAn poor ol milton couldnt live with that; his brain just shorted out.Well, he locked himself in the bathroomAn then when he didnt come out for an hour an a halfWe figgered that somethin was wrong, but we had to remove all doubtWe stood transfixed in shock and horrorWhen we busted down that there bathroom doorAnd I hope I never see a sight like that again; no, I dontThere was nothin to do but close our eyes, an bow our heads, an vocalizeWith a silent five-part acapella hymn, for him[choir]What a friend we had in milton...Now were gettin ready, come next decemberTo put another concert tour togetherAnd Im sad to say ol milton aint a-gonna be with usNo, it aint gonna be exactly the sameWhen they introduce us without his nameSo milton, wherever you are, we hope you miss us!See, milton has moved on down the roadOver the rainbow, lookin for goldYeah, hes up there where the stage lights is always onBut we cant forget that curly hairWhen last we saw him a-settin thereHoldin his tambourine, suckin his thumb, an sound asleep on the john
