This marks the second TNB tune to come out of an Atlantic Jazz Band Festival (the first, of course being REX). On the Friday night in Halifax, with Pete having not yet arrived, Shane and Jesse- obviously not hip enough to hang out with the rest of the jazz band- decided to have a little fun of their own, in the form of a couple of brown bottles. Little did they know that a certain cleaning lady would be checking under the beds the next day, and letting The Frizz know of her findings. Feeling sympathetic to their feeling pretty down on the bus ride back, Pete jotted down a verse worth of defiant lyrics about the whole thing. A few weeks later, Pete combines it with a funky chord progression from a work-in-progress, Jesse writes six more verses to it, the chorus-without-a-home from the Caswell King tune Generals Report is tossed into the mix, the boys come up with a few surprises to make things interesting (the 4th line of the 1st verse foreshadows one of these), and another trademark TNB tune is born
Cleaning Lady (P. Gorman, J. Griffith)
A bit of recycling, some mud water downing
Took a pounding, I was frowning now I'm back on the mic and
I'd like to spread the Word about a bringer of the doom
This is the gospel of the nosey little lady with the broom
I left the town at about quarter past nine
Feeling mighty humble when we waited up the stairs
With the tickets in my hand, I was feeling pretty lucky
But to our surprise we had something coming
With the band in tune and the cleaning lady ready
We packed on our shirts now were ready to run
Opens the door she doesn't know whats coming
Decides then and there to do some recycling
Not to save the forest, not for the budget
With the sign on the door she seems to ignore us
Rather not be a friendly cleaning lady
She's the one who catches all mischieving
She's not the gal I'll call a fine being
You've got to run, run far from here (x4)
The night before sure was one of the best
Cause we were on a trip in more ways the one
We had the scoop and balls which were for the fun
Tunes were cranked but we could barely hear them
We had small sky scrapers all at our feet
Not thinking about girls out on the street
As you were reaching for the top, I was sailing higher
Leaving behind all old school flyers
Kickin the sac we started smoking
But once again we had something coming
All our troubles would bring on many chores
So take my pride and leave it at the door
And take my business and make it yours
You've got to run, run far from here (x4)
