She unscrews the top of her new whisky bottle

And shuffles around in her candle-lit hovel

Like some kind of witch with blue fingers in mittens

She smells like the cat and the neighbours she sickens

The black and white T.V. has long seen a picture

The cross on the wall is a permanent fixture

The postman delivers the final reminders

She sells of the silver and poodles in china



Drinks to remember I, me and myself

Winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf

Home is a love that I miss very much

So the past has been bottled and labelled with love



During the wartime an American pilot

Made every air-raid a time of excitement

She moved to his prairie and married the Texan

She learnt from a distance how love was a lesson

He became drinker and she became mother

She knew that one day she’d be one or the other

He ate himself older and drank himself dizzy

Proud of her features she kept herself pretty



Drinks to remember I, me and myself

Winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf

Home is a love that I miss very much

So the past has been bottled and labelled with love



He like a cowboy died drunk in a slumber

Out on the porch in the middle of summer

She crossed the ocean back home to her family

But they had retired to roads that were sandy

She moved home alone without friends or relations

Lived in a world full of age reservations

On moth-eaten armchairs, she’d say that she’d sod-all

The friends who had left her to drink from the bottle



Drinks to remember I, me and myself

Winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf

Home is a love that I miss very much

So the past has been bottled and labelled with love



Drinks to remember I, me and myself

Winds up the clock and knocks dust from the shelf

Home is a love that I miss very much

So the past has been bottled and labelled with love