Drumshanbo Hustle Lyrics - The Philosopher's Stone - Van Morrison

Lord, have mercy, feel so good 

I think I'm gonna work 

I was talking to the judge, just before we left the countryside 

Piece of paper in his hand, tryin' to find the way 

Tryin' to rip it out, well, now I've got it all around 

Tore the pages up before they brought the curtain down 

I remember the day, the Drumshanbo Hustle 

When you couldn't hear a bird 

It was making not a sound 

They were trying to muscle in 

An easy way to bring the money in 

You were puking up your guts 

When you looked at the standard contract, you just signed 

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Prostitution on the run, 'cepting when it was soliciting 

Tryin' to drain 'em all dry, got hung up by the rope 

Magazines and books, clearly undefinable 

Wiped the clean slate and pulled the rug from underneath her feet 

I remember the day, the Drumshanbo Hustle 

When you couldn't hear no birds 

'Cos they were making not a sound 

They were tryin' to muscle in 

The recording and the publishing 

You were puking up your guts 

When you read the candid contract you just signed, alright 

New York hooker by the neck 

Reads your Tarot cards and astronomy 

Hey, I want to get your stars but don't know your sign 

It was taking time to get the message through to it 

But will a hand down shake you one? 

And a letter five "T" to rhyme, no sign [Incomprehensible] 

I remember the day, the Drumshanbo Hustle 

Couldn't hear a bird, Lord, you couldn't hear no sound 

They were trying to muscle in 

On the gigs and the recording and the publishing 

You were puking up your guts 

When you read the standard contract you just signed 

You were puking up your guts 

When you read the standard contract that you signed 

Oh, you were puking up your guts 

When you read the standard contract you just signed