July, July! Lyrics

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There is a road that meets the road
That goes to my house
And how the green grows there
And we've got special boots
To beat the path to my house
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there

And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian
And he was gut-shot running gin
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers
and how he held 'em
How he held 'em held, 'em in

And the water rolls down the drain
The water rolls down the drain
O, what a lonely thing
In a lonely drain

July, July, July
It never seemed so strange

This is the story of the road that goes to my house
And what ghosts there do remain
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient
Though the specifics might be vague
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey

And the water rolls down the drain
The blood rolls down the drain
O, what a lonely thing
In a blood red drain

July, July, July
It never seemed so strange

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July, July! Lyrics

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There is a road that meets the road  
That goes to my house  
And how the green grows there  
And we've got special boots  
To beat the path to my house  
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there  
  
And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian  
And he was gut-shot running gin  
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers  
and how he held 'em  
How he held 'em held, 'em in  
  
And the water rolls down the drain  
The water rolls down the drain  
O, what a lonely thing  
In a lonely drain  
  
July, July, July  
It never seemed so strange  
  
This is the story of the road that goes to my house  
And what ghosts there do remain  
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house  
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains  
  
And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient  
Though the specifics might be vague  
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta  
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey  
  
And the water rolls down the drain  
The blood rolls down the drain  
O, what a lonely thing  
In a blood red drain  
  
July, July, July  
It never seemed so strange

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