“Accordion to local legend, however, the ‘Ranter’ crystalised in the swamps of the Bayou and the salt of the Baltic Sea. Was tossed in the tempests of Irish winds, lost in the smog of Birmingham, then crawled from the creep sneaks of Camden. Producing what is known today as the ‘Rhino-and-the-Ranters’.”
Sooner or later you’ll open your eyes,
Somewhere near your point of demise
And find you’re in the company of commoners and kings
where the crossroads Bodega constantly swings
This is the place where the Baron holds court
Where departures are made and extensions are bought
And, refusing to pander to pious or glum
makes your last journey special with music and rum
For no matter how dreary your earthly plight
Here it will always be Saturday Night
The clubs never empty but theres still room for more
But the House Band is the biggest part of the Draw
Formed by Dr Rhino from salt, heat and smog
The ranters always leave one agog
There’s necromancy laced with booze
at the heart of their Cow-Punk Gospel Blues
It draws from the crowd and reflects the throng
So every attendee will add to the song
Their moods resonate and their hopes crescend
To a fitting tune for their eventual end
But there are such nights, and this is one
Where Dr Rhino decides he wants some fun
So he brings his ranters through the veil
To teach all of us how to jive and wail
Facebook: www.facebook.com/rhinoandtheranters
Vicky Roden 