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.»