Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Long Lost Tapes of Hendrix, artist - Black 47. Album song Bankers and Gangsters, in the genre Иностранная авторская песня
Date of issue: 08.02.2010
Record label: United For Opportunity
Song language: English
Long Lost Tapes of Hendrix |
One evening while out strollin' a friend |
I chanced to see |
He was begging behind a bottle |
On Spring and Bowery |
He said, «I got some news for you |
Only cost a couple of bob |
About a buried treasure |
Back home in Ballydehob |
Well, I gave him all the bucks I had |
And he took me by the hand |
I know you love musicians |
I’ve got news to beat the band |
For back there in me native town |
In the Allied Irish Bank |
The long lost tapes of Hendrix |
Are hidden in the vault |
You can talk about your pyramids |
And your pints of Guinness stout |
But the long lost tapes of Hendrix |
Will leave them in the dirt |
So I stole me boss’s credit card |
To the airport I did jog |
Very soon thereafter |
I arrived in Ballydehob |
When I hit the Allied Irish me |
Fatigue turned to desire |
I beheld two hundred pounds |
Of sweet Maggie McGuire |
She cast her eyes upon me |
«what are you doin' in me bank?» |
I’m here on a secret mission, doll |
Oh no, not another Yank |
I hate the very sight of yez |
Apart from your president |
That man can stimulate me |
Any way he wants |
What are you doin' later? |
Yera, I’m not up to much |
Would you care for a pint of Guinness? |
I never touch the stuff |
But one pint led to two or three |
Six to seven or eight |
Until I was shakin' hands with meself |
And that girl was feelin' no pain |
She was startin' to look beautiful |
Though there was three of her in sight |
Six hundred pounds of lovin' |
What do you have in mind? |
Oh, sweet Maggie Magurie |
There’s one thing I’d adore |
To go down to the vault of your bank |
And do it on the floor |
No bother, a stór |
That’s easily arranged |
So we stole into the bank |
And down the creaky stairs |
Soon we were inside |
The vault and dentin' the very floor |
I could see the tapes of Hendrix |
And they hidden behind the door |
I never had such a night of love |
She knew every trick in the book |
Over, under, sideways |
By the mornin' I was shook |
When she finally keeled over |
I gently moved her weight |
With her snores wakin' the very dead |
I headed for the tapes |
Then all at once |
A big white flash took me by surprise |
An apparition in tie-dye |
Arose before me eyes |
A curly headed black man |
Exploded in the light |
T’was the ghost of Jimi Hendrix |
And him playin' the Uilleann pipes |
I woke up in the hospital |
A weddin' ring on me hand |
Two hundred pounds of Maggie McGuire |
Smilin' to beat the band |
Oh, you’re so romantic |
No engagement did I need |
Just one mad night of blisterin' sex |
Brought me to my knees |
So now I live in Ballydehob |
Where the rain pours down all week |
I’m nearly faded away from tendin' |
To Maggie McGuire’s needs |
The moral of this story is |
Don’t ever find your dreams |
And keep away from Hendrix |
And his goddamn bloody tapes |
You can talk about your pyramids |
And your pints of Guinness stout |
But the long lost tapes of Hendrix |
Will leave them in the dirt |