.
.
It's 3 A.M. and the air is
getting thin
and all the patrons have gone on to meet their daily end

Ken the bartender is stocking beer for the weekend now is near

You know it as a rite , you call it Saturday night

Ray comes in and unslings his axe
And goes through his numerous picks

Turns the amps on and
lights a *** with a yellow Bic

Then thumps the microphone
to see if on
before he hits a lick

He's getting ready for Saturday night when everyone gets on thick

There is cocktail Mary
coming in
she sits right down and
yells at Ken ,
"Make it a tonic and gin!"

Ken nods and fills a glass
cursing beneath his breath
"I swear gin will be her death."

He loves and hates Saturday night ,
but all good things
have there bite

Ray hits a hard chord
Makes it wail in pain
Then he turns to the amp and adjusts the gain

Then one more stroke
pops a string
he without a word
changes out the thing

Then he let's lose
Like an Ace on duce
and my how he does his thing

Staying steady ,
Getting ready ,
For the magic
known as Saturday night

When the sun set
I was filled up with joy
For I met a girl
Reading under a stair, unslings her books annoyed.

I was captivated by her scintillating beauty
I put my eyes on her
I saw her shining eyes like a mirror
Her movement, when she walk so stylish
Her voice so romantic when she speaks her musical voice.

Is she happy?
I find it hard to leave
As I am about to leave her at school
The joy on my face turn to tears
She sat down lightly
She sat not to cry
The tears of joy flooded on her pretty face.

My friends are hearty
Now I am lonely and weak
Did you find a place to rest?
A better place than mine?

Yes men, I rest so easy
I cherish my own sweetheart
Never ask me who.