Pub Songs #21: Pump Up the Volume with American Beer, Beer, Beer

Today, I share some thoughts about the movie Pump Up the Volume, Leonard Cohen and my involvement with the Austin Celtic Association.

Songs:

Notes:

  • Pump Up the Volume
  • Leonard Cohen
  • Austin Celtic Association
  • Austin Celtic Meetup and Building Community
  • Brobdingnagian Bards Podcast
  • Intro music by The Tea Merchants

Beer, Beer, Beer
words and music Traditional

A long time ago, way back in history,
when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea.
Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops,
and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops.

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.

The Curtis bar, the James' Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well
one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie's beer they sell
so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O'clock ye stop
for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5

A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick,
the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick.
40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks.
Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.

The Lord bless Charlie Mops!

The Gosling Reborn
words and music Marc Gunn

Like a mystical swan from Avalon
My heart erupts from the myst across glassy waters,
Gliding in holy ascension
From the macabre of past disappointment
Into a New World
Of Chivalric Songs,
Set in new, unimaginable landscapes,
Encapsulated with enchanting trees
And a more enchanting lady.

She's like the gosling reborn
As a phoenix to the experience
Of lifting her head from the ashes,
A new magical life perched on a swollen birch
Singing to the glory of Serendipity and answered prayers,
Like a zephyr we launch into the light
Of the dawning day
Our backs to the cloudy walls of uncertainty.

American Beer
words and music unknown (possibly Seamus Kennedy)

I was having a jar in Pat Flannagan's bar,
T'was only last Saturday night.
When in walked a chap from a U.S. coach tour,
The kind you can tell by sight.
He stepped up to Flannagan tending the bar
And pulling some pints as he should.
As he slapped a rude hand on the counter he yelled,
“Hey, Barkeep! Gimme a Bud!”

“Young fellow, you're drinking in Ol'Ireland now,
And we have no American brew.
We've got Guinness and Murphy's and Beamish and Harp
And I might find a Smithwick's or two.”
The tourist responded and still much too loud,
“You ain't got a Bud? Well, up yours!
Guess I'll have to make do with the second best then,
So Barkeep, make it a Coors!”

Well Flannagan's really a patient old man
And quietly he explained,
Once again about porters and lagers and ales,
Although his composure was strained.
“I'm tellin' ye lad we've no Bud or no Coors,
No Miller, no Red Dog, or Schlitz.”
The American sat there becoming enraged.
I thought he was going to have fits.

“Then gimme whatever's the closest you've got
To American beer,” he rants.
So Flannagan cheerfully picked up a glass
And sauntered right into the gents.
He pulled on the chain, dipped the glass in the bowl
And came back all done in plain sight.
This is close as we get to American beer.
Be glad I flushed, now it's a light.