There’s a piano bar in a swank establishment which has a wonderfully grand, grand piano, but unfortunately no-one to play it since the old pianist who played there for years passed on.
The owner is fretting as business declines. No-one has yet come up to scratch in the few applicants he has had. Thinking he’ll just have to call the last guy who applied anyway, it comes a rather stinking looking, bedraggled old drunk. With tremulous hands he points to the advert in the newspaper he is carrying, advertising the post.
“I’m yer man, laddie!” he says.
The guy certainly doesn’t think so.
“What was your last job?” he asks doubtfully.
“Spent all my years in the merchant navy laddie, was captain on my last ship and when I come to retire after a six-month stint, I find me wife has run off with another man. So now I just spend my time drinking hard and chasing the women.”
The guy’s convinced this most certainly isn’t ‘his man’ but he asks him doubtfully, “You can play the piano?”
“Play? I make that damned instrument sing and dance!” and without waiting to be asked he jumps onto the piano stool and plays the most wonderful, emotional piece you ever heard in your life. Everyone in the bar simply stops talking and listens enraptured.
“Wow!” the bar owner says when the old man stops playing, “That was astounding! What piece is it exactly?”
“One of my own composition, laddie, I wrote for a sweetheart of mine,” the old guy replies with reminiscent eyes, “It’s called ‘”Get yer kegs aff wummin, you’ve pulled!”
Embarrassment spreads around the assembled glittering company, sympathizing with the now red-faced bar owner.
“I’ll play ye another one laddie!” and he starts on a jazzy number that fills the air and thrills with its complexity, rhythm, and excitement. A gigantic round of applause is given to him.
“I’ve never heard anything so wonderful as that!” the bar owner exclaims and stupidly asks the old captain what it is called.
“Another of my own laddie.” the bar owner gulps when he hears this, “It’s one I wrote to remind me of all the drunken nights we had in Singapore, it’s called “The wimmen here have big boobies and it fair makes my anchor chain run out.”
The bar owner is shocked, but he says, “You’ve got the job, just don’t tell anyone the name of the compositions, in fact, don’t talk!”
“Keep my well-lubricated laddie, I’ll not utter a word and play for ye all night long.”
True to his word he plays all night, but he feels the call of nature and goes to the lavatory. When he re-emerges, the bar owner is horrified to see that because of all the whiskey he has consumed, the old man is totally unaware that his flies are undone and that bloody anchor chain is hanging out!
He goes over to the man and says in a whisper, “Do you know your flies are undone and your pecker is hanging out.”
“Of course I do, laddie, of course, I do!” and he jumps onto the stool and proceeds to play, “Why I WROTE it!
