Song-Uncle-Manuel

It’s a bar on land that’s cursed
Run down tables
The menu’s mislabeled
But it always quenches your thirst
Half the time, there is no bill
Run by an old vet
Who used to fly fighter jets
They call him Uncle Manuel

Uncle Manuel
Sits behind the well
You can never tell
What he’s been through
He serves up the drinks
Empty glasses in the sink
All his patrons think
He only cares about you

All the drinkers yell, “Aww hell, Manuel!”
When he rings his bell

He’s taken a hundred more shots than you
Prostate cancer
Really bad dancer
But he doesn’t have time to sing the blues
Instead, he cranks up Jimmy Buffet
Cheeseburger song
Can’t go wrong
‘Cause all his people love it

All the drinkers yell, “Aww hell, Manuel!”
When he rings his bell

He doesn’t say that much at all
He smiles and listens well
When he does talk, between sips of beer
You lean in to make sure you hear

‘Cause whether you’re shoutin’ or whisperin’
His eyes tell you he’s listenin’

Sherrif busted in to shut it down
It’s an illegal speakeasy
The floor is wicked sleezy
Manuel asked him to just sit down
Sherrif wound up spillin’ all his guts
Manuel listened good
Sheriff shed a tear and stood
His report said all he found was peanuts

Uncle Manuel
Sits behind the well
You can never tell
What he’s been through
He serves up the drinks
Empty glasses in the sink
All his patrons think
He only cares about you

All the drinkers yell, “Aww hell, Manuel!”
When he rings his bell

CREDITS:

Lyrics: Terry Breakman
Music: Terry Breakman, Adam Yas, Ben Flanagan
Vocals: Ben Flanagan
Engineer: Aaron Hellam
Producer: Terry Breakman

©2025 Terry Breakman