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   Chuck McCabeI Miss My Moustache
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song created                                

Monday, March 22, 2021 8:55:32 PM
song updated                               

Monday, March 22, 2021 8:55:32 PM
stations playing this song              
Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 5
IndieMusicPeople

 















Sweet dobro and piano with a little geetawr pickin

Scott Bailey, dobro Rolfe Wyer, bass John Lee Sanders, piano, Tim Seifert, drums

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I Miss my Moustache

I miss the Good Ol’ Days
I’m missin’ pieces of my past
The Winds of Change blew hard and strange and it all went by so fast.
I miss the girl I should have married, and the ones I could not catch
And when the cold wind blows around my nose, I miss my moustache.

I missed the Last Train to Clarkesville
I miss Crosby Stills & Nash
With sideburns flyin’ my friends and I ran down the Rosy Path
I miss the sunshine on my shoulder, and my hair down to my ___
And when the Beatles play “Yesterday” I miss my moustache.

I do not miss the way my kiss made the girls all laugh
They looked at me like Pancho Villa in some old photograph
So good-bye, old banditos, better hold on to your masks
When the world gets wise to my disguise, I miss my moustache.

Some day I’ll miss Miss Manners, and all her good advice
I mis-spell Mississippi, but not the same way twice
When they taught how to keep a straight face I musta missed that day in class
‘Cause when people say; “You never shoulda shaved” I just have to laugh

For all those years I had those hairs in the middle of my face
I only wish that all I’ve missed was so easily replaced
So goodbye old soup strainer, and hello razor rash
Just one slip on that naked lip, and I miss my moustache
Yes, and when the cold wind blows around my nose, I miss my moustache.


© Chuck McCabe x
Song Comments

Finnegans Wake Book 1 Chapter 5
Wanted for millinary servance to olderly's person by the Totty Askinses. Formelly confounded with amother. Maybe growing a moustache, did you say, with an adorable look of amuzement? And uses noclass billiardhalls with an upandown ladder? Not Hans the Curier though had he had have only had some little laughings and some less of cheeks and were he not so warried by his bulb of persecussion he could have, ay, and would have, as true as Essex bridge. And not Go- pheph go gossip, I declare to man! Noe! To all's much relief one's half hypothesis of that jabberjaw ape amok the showering jestnuts of Bruisanose was hotly dropped and his room taken up by that odious and still today insufficiently malestimated note- snatcher (kak, pfooi, bosh and fiety, much earny, Gus, poteen? Sez you!) Shem the Penman.


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