dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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m a d   j o h n   p r i n e  

:   m.  a.   l i t t l e r   

 video frame : m. a. littler :


You can see the good old boys
Standing at the corner
Drinking watered down kerosene
'N watching the last red brick buildings
Turning from ashes to dust.
Strolling down that old cobblestone road
There's Mad John Prine
With his peculiar limp
That pencil mustache
That snake skin hat
'N a walking stick made of bone.
We might be dealing with a hot-blooded idiot
Or perhaps a primitive genius
With a fever inside his head
I heard him once say:
"Satan must be a working class man,
though I believe 'twas Jesus who was a carpenter."





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