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Mudcat Speakeasy
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Subject: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:30 AM You come through the dark street and go quietly to the door in the back alley in the middle of New York. It's 1927, and the economy is booming, run by tycoons like Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, and Ford. Old Silent Cal Coolidge is president. Babe Ruth just hit his 60th home run. Prohibition may be on, but you're set to celebrate! You're dressed to the nines, tuxedo for the men and fringe-covered evening dresses for the women. You get to the door and speak the password to the bouncer. You walk into a place that looks like a completely different universe from the one you just left. The lights are bright; there's huge dance floor crowded with people. The club's unusual in that it has patrons of all ethnicities...must be because it really does have the best music anywhere. Scott and Zelda FItzgerald sit with George Gershwin and Langston Hughes at one of the tables along the edge of the floor. Off to the right is the bar serving illegal hooch. On the stage at the front of the room is a jazz band, with a girl with fashionably bobbed auburn hair singing. As the instrumentalists get ready for the next set, she says, "Welcome to Club Mudcat, all you newcomers. This is the place to be for the hottest jazz in town!" |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: MMario Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:38 AM there is a dark secluded place! a place, where no one knows your face! A glass of wine, a quick embrace, it's called |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: GUEST,Roger the skiffler Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:53 AM Speaks through the peephole: "Max sent me". Orders a cup of three star "tea" in a large cup. Glad of the change, the snap brim fedora and two-tone shoes suit me better than the coonskin cap and moccasins, I don't get quite so many funny looks at the Neil Young Center. I hope there'll be some shimmy dancers on later and some hot jazz. RtS |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:56 AM Roger, what is the Neil Young Center? I keep hearing about it, but I have no idea what it is. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: MMario Date: 26 Jan 00 - 12:04 PM Caitrin, he could tell you, but then you'd have to go there! It's a 'spawism mostly... heard there's going to be a torch singer on later, she any good? |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Midchuck Date: 26 Jan 00 - 12:14 PM MMario said: there is a dark secluded place! a place, where no one knows your face! A glass of wine, a quick embrace, it's called In Vermont it's a custom to sing Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" to that melody... Peter. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: MMario Date: 26 Jan 00 - 12:24 PM Does the melody enjoy it? *chortle* note to self: self, slow down on the drinks! |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 01:58 PM (Max opens the double-barrd door and holds back the deadlight velvet drape to admit a bowlegged, potbellied figure in a fedora, trenchcoat, and double-breasted suit, with a strange lump under the left armpit. It is a local bookie by the name of Amos "Craps" DeWitt.His business card says Bookkeeper, but his friends (such as they are) have been heard to say "Gee -- where's he buy all them vowels?".) A large cuppa black coffee, s'il vous plait. Make it a double, shaken not stirred! Heh. Youse gotta rendition of "Smoke Gets In Yer Eyes" for an old stiff in from the hard streets? Crack a decka Luckies an' toss one back this way, pal. Tanks. Ihear the local floozie here is pretty good, and that she got a new racoon coat from a certain someone, who shall remain Nameless unless someone squeals. Let's see if she can tweak the ol' heart strings, ya know whaddI mean?
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mbo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 02:03 PM The door opens nad closes quickly. In walks a somewhat short man black pants and a stunning white dinner jacket with big lapels. He had a pencil thin aunburn mustache and goatee...and uncommonly short hair--to short, in fact to slick back. A small pair of spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose. "Hello, everyone," he said, setting down a violin and guitar case in a corner. "I've just been hanging around with Stephane & Django--and boy are fingers itchin' for "Tears." He turned to the man behind the counter "I'll have a orange pop, please," he said. "Oh, Miss Caitrin, could you sing 'You Do Something To Me'?" --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Wesley S Date: 26 Jan 00 - 02:36 PM I'm sorry - I must be in the wrong place. I was looking for "Hernando's Hideaway" . But hey - If the music is as hot as you say it is I'll stick around and have a cup o' joe. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 02:46 PM Welcome, Wesley. The jazz is as hot as Dillinger's rod around here, and the coffee's strong enough to melt the hair off yer chest. Just keep it on the Q.T., see? We got good reasons not to want to meet up with any flat feet, if ya see what I mean. Here comes that Tiger Rag!! Amos |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mbo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 03:08 PM Where's that Tiger? Bwwwaa-ump! Where's that Tiger? Bwwwaa-ump! Where's that Tiger? Bwwwaaa-ump! I love that song! Anyone know the Jersey Bounce? --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 03:09 PM I can give it a try, Mbo. You ready to play? And speaking of Hernando's Hideaway, you can sing "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" to that tune, too. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 03:16 PM The quartet on the stage strikes up a lively rendition of the Sheik of Araby, with Teagarden slithering sparkles coming off the 'bone. A strange young man leaps up onto the stage with an oversized coffee cup in his hand, with fumes coming out of it, and sings: I'm the Sheik of Araby! With no pants on! And your love belongs to me! With no pants on! At night, when you're asleep...With no pants on! Into your tent, i'll creep!With no pants on! (The crowd has gotten into the swing, and roars out the ..no pants on..refrain along with the singer) The stars that shine above,With no pants on! Will light our way to love!With no pants on! You'll rule this land with me...With no pants on! I'm the sheik, the shake, the sheik of Araby!!!With no pants on! (Strange young man sits down, staggering.) |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 04:11 PM (The house is chilled by the stranger's outre performance and a shamefaced silence lingers in the smokey air for a short while. But the bite of moonshine is stronger than shame itself, and the band warms up the room with "Jada" in a fine syncopated beat, and seques into the "The Muskrat Ramble", which starts steel-capped toes tapping throughout the crowded little speakeasy. ) Hey, Caitrin -- were ya gonna sing that Jersey Bounce? |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: MMario Date: 26 Jan 00 - 04:42 PM a confused looking gentleman sits down at the player piano and pumps out a lively rendition of the possum rag. (midi file available) |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Marymac90 Date: 26 Jan 00 - 05:06 PM Who's that singer with the bobbed, auburn hair-could it be Moonchild? |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: JenEllen Date: 26 Jan 00 - 05:21 PM "You called, sir?" says a tall auburn haired woman at a far table of the speakeasy. "If it's swingin' singin' you want, dollface, that's what you'll get. Max wants everyone to leave satisfied, honey." Sliding up to the piano-man, she whispers something in his ear, grabs the microphone with a Marilyn giggle, and faces the crowd...
Wild, wild young men In the back of the room, a young serving girl named Ruth Brown casts her eyes to the stage and dreams.... |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Dave (the ancient mariner) Date: 26 Jan 00 - 05:31 PM New York speak easy? Oh well I'm from Chicago so I had better mind my P's and Q's around here. Hello doorman remember me? yeah it's Dave from Chicago. I brought in a load of......cordial for yer boss on that old lake freighter.. yer a thousand ton best stuff from Canada..Naw it was easy mate.passed US customs no problem.. it's hidden in crates of Teddy bears from Emma's Bear Emporium in Halifax, what? yes tell yer boss to come with the trucks and pick it up now, before it gets busy on the street, my boys are watching for the Feds but Ness aint around these parts is he? no, good? Hey its paid for Max always treats us good. Square deal Max is what we calls him. Let me in will ya buddy I'm dry, thanks pal will return the favour next time you come to Chi town.....Yeah sure you can have the "Gat" here chambers empty and safety is on.. No mate you cannot have me knife, a sailor without a knife is like a prostitute without a ....yeah you get my meaning right! Anyway you and me know the score eh? course we do proffesional courtesy let me keep that, cheers, heres a twenty keep stoom OK pal! Ahhh good music, wonder if that new kid is around? yeah Cab Calloway I just love his Minnie The Moocher............what a guy! |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 06:17 PM That bobbed hair girl would be me, Mary. : ) Hope you cats are all havin' a nice time...I gotta take a quick break for the bar...in the meantime, the boys're gonna play a nice Charleston number called Limehouse Blues. Hey Dave, how ya doin'? Yeah, that Calloway fella's real hot stuff...he's definitely goin' somewhere!
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 07:50 PM Well, boys, I'm with Sinclair Lewis. I say to hell with the Volstead Act! Hear tell it's costin' Uncle Sam a hatfull of dough chasing guys like young Dave here around, and tha's not countin' the lost revenue. I could run a lunch stand better than that! Say Caitrin, you buy this stuff offa Dave? Tastes like a Georgia pine! I got some quality stuff just over from Glasgow that'll do you better! (He removes a silver flask from his back pocket and pours several shots of amber liquid for Caitrin, Dave and Wesley.) Oh, and one for that fine singer doll, if she'll accept the honor! (Offers a shot to JenEllen). That's by way of apologizin for the offf-color conduct of that stranger in the front row. He's out like a light! How about that! Actually, it was Lewis sez we won't enforce this Prohibition gimmick til we ,make reality something people don't want to escape from! I dunno -- too deep for me! Here's mud in yer eye! (Throws back his shot and shudders manfully.) A. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Dave (the ancient mariner) Date: 26 Jan 00 - 09:10 PM Hey thats genuine single malt, good stuff obliged Mr Amos thats real nectar, Glenmorange?? anyway cheers and good health. Hey that singer JenEllen has golden pipes, and what a body to match! yeah she's a class act that one..excuse me I'm gonna she if she'll sing a song for me... |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mbo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 09:22 PM Hey, I know ol' Cab. Or should I call him "Sportin' Life" eh, Mr.Gershwin, eh? Skuddelly voo skuddely voo skudelly voodely voodely voo! None of that alky stuff for me, Pal Dave--don't touch the stuff. Oooohh..love that Muskrat! Now all we have to do is Strut With Some Barbeque! Dave, old friend, I'll sing "Harbor Lights" for you! But first, I'd like to sing a song to Caitrin there, called "With A Song In My Heart." Here we go! --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Lonesome EJ Date: 26 Jan 00 - 09:52 PM A man enters the Speakeasy. He is a thin fellow with hair oiled back in a pompidour, he wears a silk three-piece suit, fat tie with a diamond stickpin. He carries a black cane topped with an ivory knob- it is not an affectation, his left leg drags lightly across the floor as he walks into the crowded room. I'll have a Scotch Whisky, neat please. That the best you have...MacLachan's? Seem's to me a fine establishment like this could use some Glen Livet, Glennfiddich or some of the very tasty product that bears the name of Mr Jonathan Walker. Unavailable? Not so, my friend, not at all. If you have a demand, I am in business to provide supply. Perhaps I might have a quick word with the owner and proprietor, to see if we could come to a meeting of the minds. This is not bath-tub liquor, my friend, but Scotch sealed and labeled in the Old Country. I was able to make certain aquaintances in Europe while doing my part in the Great War. I was an aviator, as a matter of fact... took three rounds through my leg over France. But while there I made friends who are imminent among the several wine families . I have nearly unlimited capacity at my command...if the price is right. The bartender moves away, pressing a button that calls the owner of the club to the bar. The bootlegger takes a seat, his face creasing momentarily in pain and concentration as he keeps his bad leg extended before him, then clearing as he looks up to catch the eye of the attractive singer. She winks and smiles back at him. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Dave (the ancient mariner) Date: 26 Jan 00 - 10:17 PM Hello LEJ still flogging off that Vin Ordinaire as prime stuff ye old pirate pilot ye. How are you old chap? glad to see you're still in business. Leg getting a bit better by the look of it. At least since I saw yer last on that cross channel hospital ship...Thought you were going to lose it to those bloody sawbones in blighty. Must have got lucky and got one that was sober and knew what he was doing eh? Have a drink with an old pal? |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 10:23 PM Hey there, Blondy. *wink* How's life been treatin' ya, toots? Lovely song there, Mbo! |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mikal Date: 26 Jan 00 - 10:30 PM (Dressed in a tux that shouts "undertaker", and leaning on the bar with a determined slouch is a largish man. His face would probably be far more pleasant without the beard, and the long hair pulled behind and left in a pony-tail seems odd and almost effeminate. Still the dollar Havana that seems to be pouring out blue smoke and the largish bulge beneath his left arm leave little doubt as to which side of the street he walks on. Most folks here know the old boy as Michael. Last names don't get used much around him. If they ask, its "Shaw, like the author.") Another of the "fruit-pops" my good man. I am waiting for a client, and I need something to keep me calm. No, not the red, the white. I understand it comes from Missouri, around the Weston area. Did someone say there was a torch singer? I would love something sad and low down right now. Mikal |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mbo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 10:49 PM Please can someone do "Love Without End"? --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 10:56 PM A shapely blonde with sequinned bustiere and marcelled perm, heavy mascara and violet eyes climbs to the stage and sings Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man, sweet and low; tears dampen the red-and-white checked tablecloths in several corners. Faintly heard through the baffled walls, from the city street beyond, a muffled shot is heard. But the talk, the laughter, the hum of sophisticated conversation, and the echos of the band members warming up for their next number are not interrupted, sweeping over the crude interruption like a rising tide of bonhomie fueled by bathtub gin. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mikal Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:02 PM Ah, something with the blues in it I think. I have a great love for blues…. Now the rain is a-fallin' And the train is a-callin' "OOOee"! My Mamma done tol' me. Hear that lonesome whistle Blowin 'cross the trestle, "OOOee," My mamma done tol' me. AOOOOeee, OOOOOeee The clickety clack's a-echo-in' back the Blues in the Night (He pulls a small black notebook from his coat, and checks again the names and ships in the left hand column against the totals in the right. Yes, he decides, the ship will be in tonight, with a load of fifty Irish desperately wanting to be in America, and none of them legal. It would be profitable…) Another, good man….White wine, of course. Mikal (Hey, I play my ancestors. Some of them were swine!) |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Caitrin Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:06 PM Alright, if I have any more I won't be able to stand up for the next set. Here's one of my personal favorites, a nice number for an alto like myself... They way you wore your hat the way you sipped your tea The memory of all that No, no they can't take that away from me The way your smile just beams the way you sing off key the memory of all that No, no they can't take that away from me We may never, never meet again On the bumpy road to love Still I always always have the memory of: The way you held your knife The way we danced till three The way you changed my life No, no they can't take that away from me |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Mbo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:15 PM **SIGH** I think I'm in love, Eustace. Now all I have to hear is "Sleepy Time Down South" and I think I'll lose it. And the tears I cry might turn into the rain, that gently falls upon your window--you'll never know. --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Amos Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:18 PM The bowlegged bookie with the big heart finishes his "coffee", and prepares to leave, bowing to the comely Caitrin, and singing as he makes his way to the back of the room.
You must remember this |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:47 PM Wait, who's that guy way back in the corner? Dark hair. Dark, rumpled suit. Funny smile. And that case. Either a super Tommy . . . Or a Gibson. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Lonesome EJ Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:49 PM Dave, I'd be honored to buy you a drink, sport. It's Scotch, is it not? Bartender, a double Scotch for mon ami and another for me. It's good to see you alive and well. Still riding those rust tubs up the Great Lakes way? And how's your wife, the cute little English kid? That was your wife, wasn't she Sport? And, right, my leg did get better, though shorter. Knocks the empty glass tumbler against his wooden shin . It's walnut from knee to toe. Here...Raises pant-leg to display a small compartment in the calf. Opening this, he reveals a silver pint flask It's no cheap wine, Dave. Try it...twelve year old Single Malt Scotch. I've 1800 cases of it in a warehouse in Newfoundland. I'll run it to Rochester, New York in false-bottomed box cars, unless of course, you can think of a more expedient and less costly solution. A small sailing craft, shallow draft and quick, might bring it ashore in one of a thousand secluded coves on the Seaboard. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 26 Jan 00 - 11:52 PM The band's announced a break, and amid the raucous din the shadowed stranger suddenly, slowly, stands and makes his way to the front . . . Case in hand. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Lonesome EJ Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:03 AM Say, Sport. I'm not sure I like the look of this jake with the guitar case. Reaches for the snubnose .38 in the waistband of his trousers. Looks up to see at least two dozen other patrons pausing in mid-conversation, their eyes on the dark stranger |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:08 AM Mounting the stage, the stranger smoothly withdraws the his weapon from its dark casebox. The crowd grows hushed, puzzled. Something, but what?, is about to happen. At the bar, the short balding guy and his chick-magnet brother are alerted. They turn their attention from a couple of redheads and take note of the man and his killer black Gibson pulling up a chair just out of the spotlight. "Who is hell is that?" Clifton wonders, a sense of great compromise in voice. Straining to see through the smoking haze, the brother pauses, then suggests, "Looks like that John Garfield." |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:27 AM The crowd is beyond curious now, restless, more unsure by the second. Women huddle. Coats and jackets are being pulled thrown back everywhere across the room, the glint of belt-cinched heaters crackling in young men's eyes. "I dunno," he whispers to his brother, slamming down a jigger, missing his mouth with half of it. "Stay cool, kid," says Rob, the brother, flashing two fingers at the barman, who dutifully refills their shots. The two click glass and throw the hootch back. "It's not mayhem we're looking at," Rob says, fingering his diamond ring roughly. "It's magic." |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Dave (the ancient mariner) Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:27 AM LEJ put up that pea shooter of yours, see the guy on the door? he wont let anyone pack a piece the size of a thompson in here, hell I'm surprised he let you and that other dude pack heat. Hell he made me check mine at the door the bastard. Why dont we talk about the Newfie run.. Sailing vessels cant outrun the cutters and patrol boats but I've got an Irish buddy with a couple of twenty five knot + boats that'll outrun anything that comes our way...one of them is a new ELCO boat that runs like a scalded cat.. can carry a hundred tons a run. I can deliver it anywhere you like from Chicago to Miami...how about it mate $5000 now and $5000 on delivery, no delivery get your cash back..sound good? |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:28 AM The crowd is beyond curious now, restless, more unsure by the second. Women huddle. Coats and jackets are being pulled thrown back everywhere across the room, the glint of belt-cinched heaters crackling in young men's eyes. "I dunno," he whispers to his brother, slamming down a jigger, missing his mouth with half of it. "Stay cool, kid," says Rob, the brother, flashing two fingers at the barman, who dutifully refills their shots. The two click glass and throw the hootch back. "It's not mayhem we're looking at," Rob says, fingering his diamond ring roughly. "It's magic." |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: JenEllen Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:31 AM Now, Now. boys...can't let Max's fine establishment get outta hand. You go messing around and the invitation won't be offered again. Let's have a song, eh? You on the stage, put your lil' case right back where you found it, honey. Amos' shot has gone straight to my head, I'm afraid you fellas will have to grab the hankies, I'm in a mood... *slowly detaching herself from the sailor, the bootlegger, and the airman with the sad eyes, she makes her way to the stage with the piano player in tow..*
Mama may have
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:38 AM And then, a shot! Clear, clean and cool. Heads dive, turning the whole room shorter in a flash; the barman disappears behind the burnished brass-railed bar. The brothers don't move, but slap each other's shoulder and laugh. "That's a C!" they chime. |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:47 AM "Sorry to interrupt," says the gaunt G-man. He spoke of listening to that little girl who was almost a lady sing her songs, and being inspired to dash off one of his own. "Like to play it for ya," he drawls. "Ain't named it yet, so let's just call it 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes at the Mudcat Speak' until I come up with somethin' better." "Why I oughtta," shouts a young man, drawing his steel from his belt. But the girlfriend, a calmer sort, yanks him by the ear back into his seat. Another blaring shot, that C again, and the show is on . . . |
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Subject: Lyr Add: TORCH SINGER (John Prine) From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 12:56 AM "Told ya this guy was cool," says Clifton, as the Gibson Guy lets it loose. . . . TORCH SINGER By John Prine As recorded by John Prine on “Diamonds in the Rough” (1972)
"The nightclub was burning
"She sang of the love that left her,
"I was born down in Kansas
“She constantly throws me off timing,
"I picked through the ashes
"She sang of the love that left her, |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: thosp Date: 27 Jan 00 - 01:00 AM Old rockin' chair's got me Cane by my side Fetch me that gin, son 'Fore I tan your hide Can't get from this cabin Ain't goin' nowhere Just sitting here [grabbing?] At them flies round this old rockin' chair My dear old aunt Harriet Up in heaven she be Send down sweet chariot For the end of these troubles I see Old rockin' chair Judgement day is near I'm chained to that old rockin' chair
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: Robo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 01:21 AM "Whisky and pain both taste the same, during the time they go down! D'ja hear that!" shouts Clifton. "Don't get no better than that," Rob agrees, spinning his rub o' the brush, "no better." All around them the room's gone mad, on its feet, jumping, screaming, crying for joy mad! And amid the delirium, the shadowed stranger cases his Gibson and slips slowly, silently through the writhing throng. Then he gone. "Bartender!" barks Clifton. "You see that guy again, all his drinks are on me, see?" Rob nods approvingly. "Your learning, my man," he says with a wink. "You're learnin'." |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: GUEST,Roger the skiffler Date: 27 Jan 00 - 03:55 AM Waiter fill up my teapot from a bottle with a label on. Say what you like about Canadjans they smuggle some good stuff over the border. Who's that gettin' up on the bandstand? Young Lonnie Johnson and about to sing, Miss Victoria Spivey. Put the guns away, folks and listen to this... |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: GUEST Date: 27 Jan 00 - 08:15 AM Don't worry, Caitrin, I'll protect you! Come guest, come gun, come shiv, come G-man! They'll have to get through me first. Now who's gonna sing "Carolina In The Morning"? --Mbo |
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Speakeasy From: GUEST,Mbo Date: 27 Jan 00 - 08:46 AM Oops...the above was from me! Let's see: "Nothing could be finer than to see my Carolina in the mooooorning...." --Mbo |
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