Ain’t Life A Brook 1 comment

I was informed a short while ago that I’m soon to be spending some time with the person responsible for the greatest lesbian break-up song of all time.

Snippets of these lyrics go through my head with great regularlity and have since I first heard the songwriter perform them on a Live ’85 – the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival album – back when there was vinyl.  They are firm, direct and heart/gut-wrenching … depending on when you hear them in the cycle of a relationship.

I’m particularly fond of this part:

“… life don’t clickety-clack down a straight line track … it comes together and it comes apart.”

Do have a listen, someday, if you can manage.

Ain’t Life A Brook

I watch you reading a book
I get to thinking our love’s a polished stone
You give me a long drawn look
I know pretty soon you’re going to leave our home
And of course I mind,
especially when I’m thinking from my heart
But life don’t clickety clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart.
You say you hope I’m not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
You give me the furniture, we’ll divide the photographs
Go out to dinner one more time
Have ourselves a bottle of wine
And a couple of laughs
And when first you left
I stayed so sad I wouldn’t sleep
I know that love’s a gift, I thought yours was mine
And something that I could keep
Now I realize that time is not the only compromise
But a bird in the hand could be an all night stand
Between a blazing fire and a pocket of skies
So I hope I’m not the kind
To make you feel obliged
To go ticking through your time
With a pained look in your eyes
I covered the furniture, I framed the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Had myself a bottle of wine and a couple of laughs
And just the other day
I got your letter in the mail
I’m happy for you, its been so long
You’ve been wanting a cabin and a backwoods trail
And I think that’s great…me…
I seem to find myself in school
It’s all Ok, I just want to say
I’m so relieved we didn’t do it cruel
But ain’t life a brook
Just when I get to feeling like a polished stone
I give me along drawn look
It’s kind of a drag to find yourself alone
And sometimes I mind
Especially when I’m waiting on your heart
But life don’t clickety clack down a straight line track
It comes together and it comes apart.
Cause I know you’re not the kind
To make me feel obliged
To go ticking through my time with a pained look
In my eyes
I sold the furniture, I put away the photographs
Went out to dinner one more time
Skipped the bottle of wine
Had a couple of laughs
And wasn’t it fine….

Big Butch Woman Click Here To Comment!

Back in the day, I sang in a choir that sang this song. It was SUCH good fun … and resulted in me re-claiming my beloved flannel shirt wearing self. For ages, I’ve wanted a copy of the lyrics and props/kudos to G for forwarding them – thanks! Sadly, I don’t have the lyricist/composer information handy but if it does become available, I’ll update this post.

Big Butch Woman

It used to be in the good ol’ days, you could tell a butch from a femme (butch from a femme)

When you checked out a woman, you knew right away “was she one of us? or was she one of them?” (one of us? one of them?)

You’d see the butch at the bar with her hair slicked back and then her pretty wife in heels by her side. (good wifey, oohhh)

But now those days are gone.  You can’t tell us apart.  It makes me just wanna lay down and cry.

(Chorus)
I want a Big Butch Woman in a flannel shirt, who drives a pickup truck and who smells like dirt.

I want a big strong mama who will cooch and coo, someone who’ll roll in the hay ‘til my face turns blue.

Don’t want no pretty girl with her hair so nice, who puts her makeup on and wears her jeans too tight.

Give me a Big Butch Woman in a flannel shirt to keep me warm through those cold winter nights.

So many women.  So little time.  You can’t afford to make a mistake. (can’t make a mistake)

You gotta go for those women you know for sure you ain’t wastin’ time on someone who’s straight. (run away if she ain’t)

A little pinky ring, shirts and pants from the Gap, or take a look at her comf’table shoes. (Doc Martins oohhh)

It’s just those girls at the bar, who drive those cute little cars, leaves me nothing but feeling confused.

(Chorus)

We know we’re stuck on a stereotype, but those cute little femmes just ain’t worth all the hype!
What do we want?

(Chorus)
Baby! Keep me warm through those cold winter nights
Big mama! Keep me warm through those cold winter nights.