My nine-year old, who has an uncomfortable affection for country drinking songs, revealed tonight that he thought the words to Tracy Byrd’s song Jose Cuervo were:

Well I walked in the band just stunk

The singer couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket

Was on a mission to drown her memory but

I thought no way with all this raucous.

But after one round with Hosey Werewolves

I caught my boots tapping long with the beat

And after two rounds with Hosey Werewolves

That band was sounding pretty darn good to me.

I hope Stephen King doesn’t read this blog. It’ll be next year’s hit novel. Maybe not…