DICKIE’S LITTLE ACRE

I was sitting ‘round the house, having a beer
When I heard Patty say Gerry come here
And I knew damned well she had a job for me to do
So I jumped up, grabbed my guitar, and a six-pack of beer and hopped in the car,
And headed on over to Dickie’s little acre

Well, at Dickie’s little acre there’s a party going on
We’re gonna drink some beer and sing some songs
And who knows maybe smoke a joint or two
Well the neighbors say we’re loud and crass
But fuck em all, they can kiss our ass
We just don’t care here at Dickie’s little acre

Yeah, Dickie’s little acre out on Pleasant lake
It’s the great American escape
To get away from the movers and the shakers
I just get myself up and grab my guitar, and a six-pack of beer and hop in the car
And head on over to Dickie’s little acre

Well at Dickie’s there’s no electricity
And for a bathroom, hey, just pick a tree
There’s no microwaves, T.V.s, or V.C.R.s
But nobody here stays bored for long
‘Cause Gerard’s here, he brought his tapes along
And after a few more drinks, someone’ll play that guitar

Now I may be wrong, but I’ve always found
That the more we drink, the better we sound
And if we don’t know the words, hey, we’ll just fake ‘em
‘Cause we don’t care, we’re just having fun
Hell, nobody here is under the gun
We’re just raising hell at Dickie’s little acre

Yeah Dickie’s little acre out on Pleasant lake
It’s the great American escape
To get away from the movers and the shakers, 
I just get myself up, and grab my guitar, and a six-pack of beer and hop in the car, 
And head on over to Dickie’s little acre

Well, Dickie’s here, he’s had a drink or two
He’s got a joint in each hand, oh, man he’s stewed
I don’t know but he just might not make ‘er
But, hey, it just don’t matter ‘cause it’s Dickie’s little acre…