Remy Martin
In the early 1980ʻs we befriended a couple whose last name was Martin. They had named their daughter Remy, after the the liquor. One day in 1996, while fooling around with my guitar the idea of a man mourning the loss of his girlfriend, goes to a bar to bury his sorry ends up dancing with a bottle of Remy Martin. This song was the easiest of all my songs to come together.
I went to the tavern
On the far side of town
Licking my wounds
And feeling real down
It would be two weeks Tuesday
Since she was around
I hoped to find comfort
On the far side of town
When I walked in the tavern
There was nobody there
Except the lonely bar tender
With long greying hair
I looked at him sadly
And asked for a beer
Said we only serve whisky
Hard liquor in here
Then I saw her At the end of the bar
Sitting alone looking out through the dark
She was slender and shapely
But dressed kind of plain
I slowly walked over
And offered my name
She didn’t look at me
Just gave me her hand
I took it real quick
And we started to dance
Through the tables and chairs
We floated around
In that dark dingy tavern
On the far side of town
Some music was playing
We kept on the go
Spinning and turning
How long I don’t know
Then the clock on the wall
Loudly struck three
And out the back door
She ran leaving me
I felt the bar tender
Grabbing hold of me
Shaking and calling
And telling me
I had better make good
On my tab cause you see
This dingy dark tavern
Closes at three
I paid the man promptly
Then asked would you please
The name of the women
Who’s dancing with me
He looked at me funny
Then smiled sheepishly
Said Martin’s her last name
Her first name’s Remy
A year has gone by
since that night on the town
And I still can’t figure
What really went down
But every so often
When I’m feeling lonely
I remember that dance
Remy Martin and me