Odes to Joy

A Verbal Fig Leaf · Track 35 · middle

One-Eyed Trouser Snake

One-Eyed Trouser Snake (mid-20th c.) — Baroque construction, zero subtlety. The last elaborate one. VOLUME: IV. THE LOCKER ROOM, 1900–1999. THE DODGE THIS ERA: The dodge stops being clever. Nobody is hiding from God or the parlour now — they're avoiding MIXED COMPANY, and the wit drains out. These are funny the way a nudge is funny. That's the point: the invention is going, and this volume should feel a bit dumber than the last on purpose. Sing the AVOIDANCE, never the anatomy.

No audio yet — generation pending.

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Fourteen pence for a pint of mild
And a damp cloth hitting the laminate wood
The boys are leaning, pretending they're wild
But standing exactly where their fathers stood
Shirley is clearing the ashtrays away
He lowers his voice to a gravelly hum
The jawline catches the danger of play
He waits half a second, and here it comes

[Chorus]
Have you heard the tale of the fearsome thing
The terrible king of the corduroy?
It isn’t a knight with a shining ring
Just a lumbering, heavy-set, joke of a boy
He builds it up like a grand mistake
The legend of the one-eyed trouser snake
He waits for the laugh. It takes a while.
A clumsy monster on a patch of tile.

[Verse 2]
It isn't a puzzle to turn in your mind
There’s no velvet curtain to delicately draw
Just a heavy-set elbow, dragging behind
A punchline the whole pub already saw
Because ladies are present, you put on a mask
But the mask is just rubber, and smelling of sweat
You can't say it plain, so you manage the task
With the least graceful cover that we've managed yet

[Chorus]
Have you heard the tale of the fearsome thing
The terrible king of the corduroy?
It isn’t a knight with a shining ring
Just a lumbering, heavy-set, joke of a boy
He builds it up like a grand mistake
The legend of the one-eyed trouser snake
He waits for the laugh. It takes a while.
A clumsy monster on a patch of tile.

[Bridge]
Three hundred years ago, they gave it a crown
They called it a ruby, a pillar, a lance
Now we just drag the whole menagerie down
And shuffle our boots in a desperate dance
It’s the last big invention before we go blunt
A reptile kept in the dark of a seam
He swallows the silence, facing the front

[Outro]
Just a joke for the boys.
Just a noise in the room.
Shirley takes the glasses back.
The monster goes to sleep in the gloom.
Fourteen pence.
He finishes his drink, and looks at the floor.
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