Meanwhile down on Beale Street. Drinking in a Beale Street bar. There's a fog rolling off the Mississippi. Has anybody seen Arkansas?. And the deckhands from the towboats.
There's nothin' like cornmeal on a dance-hall floor for dancin' the night away,. Slippin' and slidin', effortlessly glidin' in the arms of my sweet Lillie Mae,.
I found comfort and courage in bottles of whiskey. I swear to you friends that that life is some risky. I have backed away quickly from those who tried to burn me.
William Butler Yeats in jeans. Got up to play guitar and sing. In some join in Mission Beach last night. At the door sat Tom Waits. In a pork pie hat and silver skates.