My Baby's In the Beer Tent Again - Kate Reid-July 2009


It's a musician's life for me, don't you know

It's just me and my guitar on the road

And sometimes my baby takes off work to join me

It's hotel rooms and late night shows, dirty bars and festivals


And there's one thing you show know about my baby

She's so dedicated to me that it's crazy

She carries my guitar, she drives me near and far

She's always there for me, my baby's so damn good to me


And when we walk together through these festival gates

The grounds lay out before us, my adoring fans they are awaiting

There's vendors of handmade clothes, energy shakes and soap makers

Music for all ages and the excitement is contagious


So I turn to share my feelings with my baby

But suddenly, she is nowhere to be seen

It seems she has all but disappeared and my worst fear is realized

When I finally discover she is otherwise occupied



My baby's in the beer tent again

She appears to be befriending the cute volunteer bar tenders

She's boozing with the locals, she's schmoozing folks and smoking

My baby's in the beer tent again.


My baby, she's as loyal as they get

She's as solid as an S10 Chevy pick-up truck in red

And I know she'll never leave my side

It seems her eyes were made with me in mind


And for my baby, it's all about the music

And she loves nothing better than to dance a little two-step now and then

She digs bluegrass, folk and country and old-timey

And as for my tunes, well, she's a hundred percent behind me


But when we're at these festivals my baby starts to change

She starts frothing at the mouth, she's got her sights set somewhere else

Cuz when it comes to beer, I seem to disappear

She drops all my stuff and then she's off and running



My baby's in the beer tent again

She's chatting up the ladies, she's arm wrestling all the men

She's chugging with the rednecks, she's spending my whole paycheck

My baby's in the beer tent again.


My baby's rather quiet and introverted

She doesn't tend to be much of a flirter

But when she gets a can of liquid courage in her hand

She turns into a instant, bona fide ladies' man


And she loves party with our people and wave that rainbow flag

She'll be singing “We are Family” with the old school fags and drag queens

She's guzzling with the gays, she's downing drinks with all the dykes

She won't ever lay and die, I know my baby will survive



My baby's in the beer tent again

She's even louder and she's prouder when her pride's a little pie-eyed

She's buying beers for all the queers, she's on a gender-bender

My baby's in the beer tent again.


She's dressed to kill her crocs, cut-offs and plaid shirt

My baby's a plate of fashion and she's looking hot for certain

And she swears up and down that she ain't the earth mama type

She firmly states that she ain't no granola dyke stereotype


But when my baby's starts swilling hops with the hippies

She's talking 1960's folk songs and rolling herbal ciggies

She's spouts off about compost, organic gardening and tofu

She's toking with her psychedelic sisters, she's even playing naked Twister




My baby's in the beer tent again

She's tripping with the hippies, her “peace, man” never ends

She gets all flower power when she gets a few drinks down her

My baby's in the beer tent again.


My baby's in the beer tent again

She's in all her splendor, she's a repeat offender

She's dancing on the table-tops, she shows no sign of stopping

My baby's in the beer tent again.