Harry Randall Truman became a folk hero after he refused to leave his home prior to the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens. Click here to see an interview Harry gave: click here
Harry Truman's in his cave
Said that he'd be no man's slave...
Goddamn government...MOVE!...That's all they know to say...that and PAY!...Boy, she's shakin' this mornin'...Need a drink...I got that...I got plenty o' that.
Harry said good-bye one day
Turned his back and walked away...
Don't need them...Move, Hell!...Don't need them...don't need nobody!...just her...me...and her. Oooh!...I felt that. Just mad...that's all...She's mad as hell...'bout what they done to this place. Little box houses...boxes...box houses...all over like pimples!...She'll pop 'em! Mad, mad 'bout makin' her a garbage dump. Dumpin' garbage...on her...in her...over her...under her. You got garbage? That's right. Dump it. Bury it...bury her.... That's right...can't go nowhere...nowhere to go...fine...fine. Nowhere to go. Fine!
He and bourbon...they were friends...
Saw no hope for man's a-mends.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed he'd carved from the soft stuff of Helen's womb. He had to pee. With what he drank, he usually had to pee. Harry stood up and stumbled to the far corner of his cave. There...long ago...he'd found a cleft in the rock floor which welcomed his recycled Kentucky Bourbon. He peed, holding himself up with one hand on her endometrium and stared at the centerfold pasted on the wall. She shivered.
Harry was a horny groom...
Loved his wife...the crack of doom.
Huh...mmmmm...oh February...my February...oh...shakin'...shakin'...she...yes, yes, what the...in the corner??...oh...shakin'...red hot...Goddamn hot!
I like to think Harry somehow survived, but it is assumed that Harry, Miss February, sixteen cases of Old Kentucky Bourbon, and his cooler of food...all disappeared when the mountain blew. Ohhh...the wrath of a woman scorned.
He and bourbon...they were friends...
Saw no hope for man's a-mends.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed he'd carved from the soft stuff of Helen's womb. He had to pee. With what he drank, he usually had to pee. Harry stood up and stumbled to the far corner of his cave. There...long ago...he'd found a cleft in the rock floor which welcomed his recycled Kentucky Bourbon. He peed, holding himself up with one hand on her endometrium and stared at the centerfold pasted on the wall. She shivered.
Harry was a horny groom...
Loved his wife...the crack of doom.
Huh...mmmmm...oh February...my February...oh...shakin'...shakin'...she...yes, yes, what the...in the corner??...oh...shakin'...red hot...Goddamn hot!
I like to think Harry somehow survived, but it is assumed that Harry, Miss February, sixteen cases of Old Kentucky Bourbon, and his cooler of food...all disappeared when the mountain blew. Ohhh...the wrath of a woman scorned.
That's all folks!
