Originally posted on Goonersphere.
With the twirling, dusty winds of the plains battering each building that inhabited what the denizens called a town, these very people were hunkered down in the saloon. The place that old or young frequented, it was the epicentre for all. Ol’ Adrian was rushed off his feet trying to serve all who were drinking this day. Lucky enough the only thing on the menu was whisky.
Jamie was letting his fingers do the talking, playing endless ditties on the organ. The tunes he belted out on the ivories weren’t exactly melodic but enough to blot out people focusing on their humdrum existence. The whisky helped too.