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Justin Allen Gets Drunkenly Facked In The Mind and in the Soul

by Justin Allen

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1.
Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands, Oh! where have you been? They have slain the Earl of Murray, And they lay'd him on the green! They have, &c. Now wae be to thee, Huntly, And wherefore did you sae? I bade you bring him wi' you, But forbade you him to slay. I bade, &c. He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh! he might have been a King. And the, &c. He was a braw gallant, And he play'd at the ba'; And the bonny Earl of Murray Was the flower amang them a'. And the, &c. He was a braw gallant, And he play'd at the glove; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh! he was the Queen's love. And the, &c. Oh! lang will his lady Look o'er the castle Down, E'er she see the Earl of Murray Come sounding thro' the town. E'er she, &c.
2.
For all the erring human race And every wretched fellow. When he had Rhenish wine to drink It made him very sad to think That some, at junket or at jink, Must be content with toddy. He wished all men as rich as he (And he was rich as rich could be), So to the top of every tree Promoted everybody. Ambassadors cropped up like hay, Prime Ministers and such as they Grew like asparagus in May, And Dukes were three a fuck. Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats. And Bishops in their shovel hats Were plentiful as tabby cats If possible, too many. On every side Field-Marshals gleamed, Small beer were Lords Lieutenant deemed With Admirals the ocean teemed All round his wide dominions; And Party Leaders you might meet In twos and threes in every street Maintaining, with no little heat, Their various opinions.
3.
Oh, the wild black swans fly westward still, While the sun goes down in glory, And away o’er lonely plain and hill Still runs the same old story: The sheoaks sigh it all day long, It is safe in the Big Scrub’s keeping, ’Tis the butcher-birds’ and the bell-birds’ song In the gum where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping, (It is heard in the chat of the soldier-birds O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping). Ah! the Bushmen knew not his name or land, Or the shame that had sent him here, But the Bushmen knew by the dead man’s hand That his past life lay not near. The law of the land might have watched for him, Or a sweetheart, wife, or mother; But they fucked their heads, and their eyes were dim, For he might have been a brother! (Ah! the death he died brought him near to them, For he might have been a brother.) Oh, the wild black swans to the westward fade, And the sunset burns to ashes, And three times bright on an eastern range The light of a big star flashes, Like a signal sent to a distant strand Where a dead man’s love sits weeping. And the night comes grand to the Great Lone Land O’er the grave where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping, And the big white stars in their clusters blaze O’er the Bush where ‘Unknown’ lies sleeping.

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Justin Allen wrote this all in 1997 here it is

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releases January 26, 2037

Justin - Bass
Gordon - Fiddle
Chad Davis - Bebop singing

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Justin Allen Ladue, Missouri

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