Bucky & Bully & Mowgli by Doyle Hall / Doyle

Road Trip

All my good dogs are gone now,
But I’ve had me quite a few.

I used to have a bunch of dogs,

And then I just had two……

In the scorching Texas summer,

When black clay turns to stone,

I dug a grave for each of them,

Then I was all alone.

I wrapped them tight in old workshirts,

And laid them in the ground.

I stuck a hundred flower bulbs

In each funeral mound.

I drank a cold Dos Equis,

No, I drank a case or two.

I sat outside in my backyard,

and wondered what to do.

I blew a dozen reefer,

While I listened to The Boss.

But all the smoke in Mexico

Could not make up my loss.

I walked around the house I’d built

To hold what I held dear.

But I couldn’t find a reason,

Why I should linger here.

I put my house in order,

And I cashed in all my chips.

I set my mind to thinking

About planes and trains and ships.

I packed up my old kitbag,

And I took it on the lam.

I left some bankers crying,

But I didn’t give a damn.

I spent some time in London Town,

Then split for Gay Paree,

And everywhere I traveled,

My good dogs stayed with me.

I lost a month in Amsterdam

Inside Der Piddler’s Bar.

I might have stayed forever,

But I had to travel far.

If you’re headed East of Suez,

Please take my advice:

Never fly on Gulf Air,

No matter what the price.

When we finally got to Bombay,

The plane was two days late,

So I shacked up with a redhead,

I guess that it was fate.

She was an Irish colleen,

I met her in Dubai,

Where we were stuck in Ramadan,

Gulf Air alone knows why.

I always called her “Mem Sahib,”

Now I can’t recall her name.

Since we spent two months together,

I guess that’s pretty lame.

We traveled round the Deccan,

Then north for Taj Mahal,

It was a grinder of a trip,

We had to see it all.

We split the sheet in Jaipur,

And she went on her way.

I caught a bus for Jaisalmer,

After Holiday.

In Jaisalmer, I met Gitan,

Traveling with her mom.

She was a teenage beauty queen,

Like something from the prom.

We rambled through old Rajasthan,

Gitan, her mom, and me.

She blew the Indians’ minds away,

It was a sight to see.

They caught a plane in Delhi,

Returning to B.C.

So I flew on to high Nepal,

Just my old dogs and me.

In Kathmandu I found a home,

The hashish there is tops.

The streets are filled with hippy chicks,

Each weekend brings fresh crops.

I met Louisa on the street,

A Dane I’d known before.

When you run the Hippy Trail,

That happens more and more.

So I’m chowing down on big thick steaks,

And drinking Guinness beer.

I think until the cash runs out,

I’ll be quite happy here.

I’m hanging out in Pokhara,

Smoking up my head.

I’m drinking Everest Whiskey,

While listening to The Dead.

I love these cold, tall mountains,

My life would be complete.

If I just had my good old dogs,

Sleeping at my feet.

 

With love,