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North of 7
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Little Bones [The Tragically Hip] It gets so sticky down here Better butter your cue-finger up It's the start of another new year Better call the newspaper up 2.50 for a hi-ball And buck and a half for a beer Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here The long days of Shockley are gone So is football Kennedy style Famous last words taken all wrong Wind up on the very same pile 2.50 for a decade And a buck and a half for a year Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here I can cry, beg and whine T'every Rebel I find Just to give me a line I could use to describe They'd say, 'Baby eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones.' So regal and decadent here Coffin cheaters dance on their graves Music, all it's delicate fear Is the only thing that don't change 2.50 for and eyeball And a buck and a half for an ear Happy hour, happy hour Happy hour is here Nothing's dead down here, just a little tired They'd say, 'Baby eat this chicken slow It's full of all them little bones.'