Search results for 'pipe-clay'

Old Dúídin Fumes is a ballad for those smokers that love Irish clay pipes. The story tells that the village of Knockcroghery in County Roscommon,

in front of the fire --
Smoking his pipe of clay,
Mother takes in washing
So does sister Ann,
Everybody works at our house
But my old man.

Verse 2

Sitting in my study
Drawing upon a pipe of clay
Simply sitting, smoking softly
I endure the remaining day.
Harder still fell the rain
Against

Vermont, dog bite 
Radcliffe, clay pipe 
Daydream phenobarbital 

Flood Hill, fireflies
Crazy Eddie, Frankenstein
C2H6O

Now seems a good time

on and on and on and on

Thank you Rene Magritte
Nothing and no one's complete
We forgive you, Rene, forget
Non, je ne regrette

With your clay pipe in your hand
Nothing at all

freedom die

What now is trust
Once was scandal
No more fizzling like Kahoutek
Or stormy damsels

Do not buy
Mythological memes
Refusing to fade
The clay

I took a sup of black gold
From a brown stained, china bowl,
Blue snake smoke from a pipe of Lou’siana rolled,
Lazy like from a white clay pipe

Before bar stools smelling of beer and nicotine
Clay pipes and cannons from the June mutiny
Of the maiden Batavia wrecked on the Morning Reef
Acoustic

Well watch ya man
Rub-a-dub a play from night to daylight
cnd di whole place ram up like seh it air tight
cnd man ah bun spliff and man ah bun clay pipe