Three Sheets to Kishkiyya · Track 5 · middle
Pickled
VOLUME I — being gloriously, world-tilting DRUNK (the night at full tilt). The idiom and the song's title hook: "Pickled". Its true history: UK/US, 19th c. — preserved in brine like a pickle; the whole body saturated and kept in alcohol. Render this beat of the night as the band's affectionate, funny, celebratory tribute — the idiom itself is the chorus hook.
Lyrics
[Intro] Step right up! [Verse 1] Step right up to the 19th century, Down in the cellar where the good things wait. It’s a vinegar bath and a salty remedy, To keep a little cucumber looking great. Look at Sisu spinning on a barroom stool, Soaking up the spirits in a glass-jar pool. She’s a prize-winning veggie at the county fair, Brine in her blood and a tilt to her hair. [Chorus] Oh, she’s pickled! Preserved for the ages in a tavern jar! Properly pickled! Floating in the alcohol, reaching for a star. Every single finger is saturated fine, Suspended in the liquor and the lovely brine. It's a grand old recipe to make the evening last, Pickled in the present, permanently glassed. [Verse 2] You take a little water and a lot of gin, Seal up the cork so the winter won't bite. Pouring the remedy right to the brim, Keeping us fresh for the middle of the night. Her elbows are rubber and her knees are loose, Swimming in the middle of the maker’s juice. No spoiling today, no sir, no way, She's cured like a herring in the Yarmouth bay! [Chorus] 'Cause she’s pickled! Preserved for the ages in a tavern jar! Properly pickled! Floating in the alcohol, reaching for a star. Every single finger is saturated fine, Suspended in the liquor and the lovely brine. [Bridge] Swing the brass, let the trumpet blare! The brine is bubbling everywhere. A parlor trick for the human dust, If you soak the soul, the body won't rust! [Outro] She’s pickled to the gills, And the evening is a thrill. So put the label on the jar, And sit her in the corner booth, Right next to the... well, wherever we left the coats.