The Night That The Band Got The Wine

The earthquake hit at 6:19 with a jolt

People went running for the doorway

And for the next half minute it shook

Up on the 17th floor the sommelier was opening the wine

He knew the great hotel was solidly built

Still it must have been a miracle that nothing got spilt.

Terry O'Shea got up from the Chippendale chair

Talking on the telephone

Looking perplexed, waving a hand in the air

In the great room all alone

Fifty years old today, a microdot billionaire

Putting on a party like a Hollywood guy

With all the food and wine that his money could buy

The band came in arguing as usual

About nothing in particular

It always seemed to be that way

Tuning up and putting out set lists

Of all the stupid songs musicians hate to play

Still it could be better then usual

The food looked great, it was money not glory

So when the clock struck eight

They began the theme tune from "Love Story".

Time went by with no one arriving at all

It was just Terry and the pictures

Of dead people frowning from the wall,

They didn't look very pleased

It was completely clear nobody was coming

They were all staying home with their earthquake kits

Waiting for the aftershocks to hit

The Night That the Band Got the Wine

Thirty decanters of wine sat ready to pour

1961 Margaux and Petrus and Chateau Latour

Swaying in unison

Lobster and cavier, shrimp and salmon

They were all laid out with artistic flair

The waiters were already eyeing their share

Terry got up and he said "Enough"

And told the band to stop playing that dreadful stuff

He made them all come over to the table

And he gave them wine they never had dreamt of

So they worked their way through the burgundy and port

And started to relax

They discovered they had more in common then they thought

And so they went back

Over to the stand and started playing again

But this time differently

It got louder and louder and fairly insane

People heard it down in the street

It felt so good, they were smiling at eachother

The waiters all ran out covering their ears

There was plaster from the ceiling on the crystal chandeliers

Terry was dancing like a madman and waving his hands

At anything and everything

Kicking up the dust from the carpet and doing handstands

Cackling and yodeling

This was a birthday bash he hadn't anticipated

Spinning like a top in the middle of the room

While the hotel shook to a sonic boom.

After a while he passed out cold on the floor

And dreamed revealing things

Then he didn't have computers anymore,

Or fawning underlings

He was running through the trees on a tropical isle

No more feeling tense

In a flower patterned shirt of questionable style

It all made sense

The band went back to their homes in the Hollywood hills

Better than they'd ever felt

Waking up their sleep-addled wives with rambling tales

It didn't go down very well

But as a legacy, they called a band meeting

And decided they were going to give up playing covers

From that day on they got along with one another

Terry woke up and strange as the story may seem.

Though he felt terrible

He found with the dawn he could still remember his dream

So he just fell away

Nobody's seem him since

But I like to think of him

Sitting on a beach like Gaugin wearing a smile

Waiting for a brown eyed girl, she'll be there in a while

Maybe thinking back to a long ago time

The Night That the Band Got the Wine

The Night That the Band Got the Wine