BeersideScoundrels' Podcast

We're back! In this podcast, we talk about hpmor.com, songs we have never released, our love of Muskogee, and we sing a lullaby for a fan. Also, be sure to check out the song written right before this recording at our reverbnation site: http://www.reverbnation.com/thebeersidescoundrels.

This podcast came entirely from out-takes during recording.

Beeswing by Richard Thompson
Dirty Slow by The Beerside Scoundrels

Two, count them two songs in this episode, as well as a discussion of what video games we are currently playing. Also a cat.

Road Beyond the Pale is a new original song by the Beerside Scoundrels.

ALL OF THE HARD DAYS ARE GONE
By Kevin McKrell, Dráguin Music

Find out exciting news from the Beerside Scoundrels!

Lines in the Sand

There's dust on the wind
Cries in the night
Fires Burn the Sky
and all we know is right

There's tears on the road
footsteps in the mud
we run to the wood
as the streets begin to flood

Chorus:
We are the stolen children
The faceless have no land
We'll give the trees their eyes
and we draw lines in the sand

No man can trap us
no law keeps us down
no fighting nature
no way, but to drown

The sould sof the forust
watch us while we sleep
they're our to know terror
and we're there's to keep

Chorus

Come bring your armies
the forests shield my dreams
my spirits protect me
and blood will fill the streams

no force can ever take me
the spirits guide my hand
the storms will burn the bridges
while I draw lines in the sand

The Beerside Scoundrels write music, with solidarity.

He's a drunken lout, he's a layabout
you curse, you coax, you pray,
The only time you need him, he won't come out to play.
He's a right old prick, he's the shortest stick,
He's blind, he's dumb, he's thick
And whenever there is trouble, we all blame ol' whisky dick

In Canada, Dick and I hunt beaver from the wood.
They're hard to catch, and worse to eat, but nothing feels so good.
I planned to mount that beaver, if Dick could make the shot,
he must've been quite nervous, he didn't even cock.

One lady had a furry cat I rather did adore
One day it came in from the rain, it was dripping on the floor,
I tried to pet that kitty, with Whiskey Dick right by my side
One look at him and that lady's sopping pussy up and dried.

One night I went out drinking when I spied a rosy bramble
I thought I would deflower it so towards it I did amble
Dick cried "TAG!" and tripped me with a rather hardy push
Because of whisky dick I wound up face-first in the bush.

One day my buddy Whiskey Dick went missing for a while
I discovered Whiskey Dick had died... I couldn't help but smile.
Dick was stiff and buried, it was more than I could take.
'til he came back to haunt me when I was drinkin' at his wake.