Odes on Tender Specie(s) Vol II: Paper Faith · Track 12 · middle

I Owe You (Slate)

60-second interlude. A 19th-century tavern slate, chalk marks of who owes the bartender how much. The IOU as bar-room sociology. Nalyd's harmonica, no drums, conversational.

Lyrics

Behind the bar, nailed to the wood, a piece of black Welsh slate.
Don't need no ink, don't need no press.
Just a nub of chalk and a little faith.
The publican, he don't write much.
Just a name, and a scratch for the drink.
"Thomas Flynn," he says to himself.
"Two more pints on the slate."
And Tom just nods, wipes his mouth.
Payday's comin'. It can wait.
A whole week's thirst written up there in dust.
A quiet history of every man's trust.
Then Saturday comes, with the clink of coin.
A wet rag washes the names away.
Black and clean for another Monday.