Milton – C.W. McCall – letras

Now, I’ll tell ya a tale that’ll bust yer heartThat only a few people knew, ta startIt all took place when our concert tour was booked at the SeaTac Hilton?I’ll guarantee ev’ry word’s the Gospel truthGot witnesses ta prove it, too,’Cause we all toured with a fella by the name a’ MiltonNow Milton was o-fficial tour director,Electrical piano-playin’ plug connectorAn’ the slave-drivin’-est travel conductorThat we ever seen in our livesHe’d say « Whaddya mean, ya need more rest? »The world don’t care whether ya look yer best! »Simply show up promptly at six A.M. with your instruments …and your wives! »[Choir; in sorta of « Bringing In The Sheaves » way]Shall we gather at the airport?He’d always arrive in the nick a’ timeA good five minutes ahead a’ flight timeA-lookin’ like he’d been drug through a needle’s eyeHe’d stand there, stoned and about ta chokeOn his Egg McMuffin an’ his giant CokeAn’ then he’d throw all the tickets on the counter and say »Check the bags and let’s fly! » »Well, whaddya mean, this is too much weight? »We only got forty-six pieces a’ freight! »And if it don’t go, who’s gonna explain it to our fan club in Tacoma? »We’d all get embarassed an’ head for the planeWhile Milton stood there, bein’ profaneBut somehow he always managed ta get on board …in sort of a coma[Choir]When the drinks were served up yonder…Well, we deplaned at th’ other endAll the trouble seemed to commence againThough Milton had ordered three station wagons, a pickup truck and a limoAnd though he’d phoned ahead to that Number TwoCussin’ an’ fussin’ an’ turnin’ blueWe’d always end up with two Datsoons and a PintoNow Milton took all a’ that stuff in strideLaid on the floor, an’ kicked an’ criedBut we always looked up to him for hope and salvationBut we’d sink to the bottom a’ trav’lers hellWhen he’d check us in a remote motelAnd he’d grab the clerk by his shirt an’ tie an’ say »Whaddya mean, ¿no reservaciónes? »[Choir]Milton’s getting bolder…He’d shut himself in room one-oh-fourLet nobody in ’til he swept the floorAdjusted the lampshade, aligned the TV, fixed the faucet, called the promoter »Well, whaddya mean we’re the warmup show? »You’re puttin’ me on! We’re stars, ya know! »And this ain’t the way we was treated last summer at Six Flags Over Dakota! »Now we gotta have a hunnert percent top billing, »Two-thirds in advance, a’ course, you silly! »I’m sure we prefer a chauffered limosine and two air-conditioned dressing rooms, please. »I’m what? Well, so’s your wife! She’s not? Well, to each his own. »Beg pardon, stick it in my what? Well, really, Merle who? »[Choir]William Morris, keep us working…Now, Milton was a real good friend a’ mineAn’ we’d stuck together on down that lineBut there was one or two points over which we just had to dee-bateLike takin’-your-clothes-off-an’-hangin’-from-a-cross-in-front-a’-the-Tri-County-FairgroundsIs not necessarily an assurance that the crowd ain’t gonna start throwin’ tomatasAn’ when ya arrive at four for a five o’clock showAn’ the stage ain’t built an’ there’s no electricityAbout all ya could do is sit on yer butt an’ cut baitHowever, you give ol’ Milton four strong bodies, a nine-foot grand, a beer and a cigaretteAn’ you just knew that show was gonna be …outta state[Choir]Bringing in the breadBringing in the bread…Now one night up there in WashingtonWe didn’t get paid for a show we’d doneAn’ poor ol’ Milton couldn’t live with that; his brain just shorted out.Well, he locked himself in the bathroomAn’ then when he didn’t come out for an hour an’ a halfWe figgered that somethin’ was wrong, but we had to remove all doubtWe stood transfixed in shock and horrorWhen we busted down that there bathroom doorAnd I hope I never see a sight like that again; no, I don’tThere was nothin’ to do but close our eyes, an’ bow our heads, an’ vocalizeWith a silent five-part acapella hymn, for him[Choir]What a friend we had in Milton…Now we’re gettin’ ready, come next DecemberTo put another concert tour togetherAnd I’m sad to say ol’ Milton ain’t a-gonna be with usNo, it ain’t gonna be exactly the sameWhen they introduce us without his nameSo Milton, wherever you are, we hope you miss us!See, Milton has moved on down the roadOver the rainbow, lookin’ for goldYeah, he’s up there where the stage lights is always onBut we can’t forget that curly hairWhen last we saw him a-settin’ thereHoldin’ his tambourine, suckin’ his thumb, an’ sound asleep on the john