On Being The Meat Man
July 31st, 2009 by Scott
There’s a great old southern rock and roll song that I have in my music collection — a number of renditions of it, in fact — that I play when I have doubts about my chosen profession. I’ll pop on the Jerry Lee Lewis version, listen to the man go sideways on that piano of his, and feel my sense of purpose and resolve slowly return to me. Here’s a sample of the lyrics:
I been down to Macon, Georgia
I ate the furs off a Georgia peach
Plucked me a chicken in Memphis
Mama, I still got feathers in my teeth
Ate a pound of pork Huntsville, Alabama
From a fine Alabama hog
I went to Dallas, Texas
Got no love, my baby left me
Fed the bone to a Louisiana dog
Oh, they call me the meat man
Ya oughta see me eat, ma’am
Hear I’m the meat man, baby
Ya oughta see me eat, ma’am
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