Where’s the Rum?
When I was a wee lass
Me father said to me,
“Me darlin’ girl, this pub be yours
When all grown up you be.”
He taught me about business
And how to guard me bum,
And told me not to trust the men
Demanding shots of rum.
Where’s the rum? Where’s the rum?
Dear lord, please tell me, where’s the rum?
I thought me heart was breakin’,
But it’s just me head that’s achin’,
So someone tell me, where’s the rum?
Ach, please just pour some bloody rum.
He warned me about salty men
Who sailed upon the sea.
They’d come with tales of derring-do,
Just hoping to woo me.
They’d smile and try to kiss me
And tell me I’m the one,
When all the while their deepest wish:
To drink up all me rum.
The devil rum can turn your head
While dancin’ on your tongue.
Its promises of happiness
Are lies from songs long sung.
For if it could deliver
A life of endless fun,
Then why are all the sailin’ lads
In need of yet more rum?
Of all the things me father said
To help me grow up strong,
His wisdom on this subject here
Has never been proved wrong.
For a man home from the islands
Who’s felt the southern sun
Will never cease to crave the taste
Of good Jamaican rum.
© 2016 Toni Finley All Rights Reserved
My singing wench troupe, Just Desserts, will be debuting this song next Wednesday night at our Wenchy Wenchday show at Market Street Pub & Cabaret. It’s my newest song, intended to get the audience singing along on the chorus.