Pat Wictor

Daddy comes home late and unties his shoes
Sits in the rocker and turns on the news
I run upstairs and leave Momma with him
With his tumbler and rocks, and his bottle of Jim

I hear his voice, talking on 'bout his day
And Momma pretends she's got nothing to say
After supper there won't be too much conversation
Daddy is goin' on a whiskey vacation

    Whiskey, Whiskey vacation
    In the kitchen downstairs, Momma's pacing
    And I try to play quiet, but my hands are a-shakin'
    Daddy has gone on a whiskey vacation

The good nights were silent, but some nights he'd be
Badmouthing Momma, then he'd start in on me
When he gets on a roll, three sheets to the station
Daddy is gone on a whiskey vacation

    Whiskey, Whiskey vacation
    And I'm shut in my room and I'm prayin'
    But God, he don't answer, and all Momma's sayin'
    Is Daddy has gone on a whiskey vacation

Now Daddy, you see, was the drinker next door
He always provided, we never were poor
He never lost his job, and never raised his hand
Respected by all as an upstanding man

For years I have pondered what makes people drink
The demons that haunt them and make 'em feel weak
Hit the bottle myself, but stopped in trepidation
To keep from being lost on that whiskey vacation

    Whiskey, Whiskey vacation
    There's a choice every day that I'm making
    So my sons and my daughters will never be saying
    Daddy is gone on a whiskey vacation
    Daddy is gone on a whiskey vacation

PW:  lap slide guitar, vocal
Jon Carroll:  accordion
Cheryl Prashker: drums
Mark Murphy: acoustic bass
Joe Jencks:  vocals
Helena Nash:  vocals

written by Pat Wictor (Tell A Tale Music/BMI)