#skirmish #rock

I live in Western Massachusetts, close to Belchertown. Which I always thought was the absolute worst name for a town. Apparently they changed their name from "Cold Spring" to honor Jonathan Belcher, Royal Governor of Massachusetts Bay prior to the American Revolution. It's actually a photogenic New England town, and my band played on the Common there many years ago. But, really, is a British overlord the first thing you think of when you hear the name? Bad name for a town, but a decent title for an ode to eructation.

OK, demo now posted. 49 minutes past the deadline, so not quick, but dirty.

BELCHERTOWN (c) 2026 raspberry33

Verse 1: Alright kids, gather ‘round, lesson from the stars, Some useful information when you’re placing bets in bars A belch is a burp – air that’s coming from your gut A normal human venting when the stomach’s had enough.

Verse 2: It’s nature calling out in a voice you can’t ignore, A sound that’s old as laughter, celebrated yore. Some call it a compliment, some consider it a sin, But every honest eructation thunders from within

Chorus Be loud, be proud — let your gasses disappear Raise your glass then sing it out for all the world to hear From a baby’s grateful gurgle to an old man’s hearty frog Be loud, be proud — or else blame it on the dog

Verse 2 Across the seven continents, there are different table rules, In Southeast Asia, a burp’s affirms the food consumed was cool. A sign you’re satisfied, the meal has done its part, A chorus of contentment rising from the heart.

But in Japan they whisper, hand over mouth, silent bow Manners must be different there, that we must allow. Culture carves the meaning from the same single sound, What’s rude to one is reverence on another’s ground.

Chorus Be loud, be proud — let your inner methane free, Raise your glass and sing it out for all the world to see. From a cradle’s gentle sigh to a traveler’s weary nod, Be loud, be proud — it’s the language of the odd.

Verse 3 Our friends the cows and sheep, they ruminate all day They send up secret whispers, must be something in the hay Science says the planet warms when herds release their song, Compared to them, we don’t add much, so we can burp along. Bridge After a beer or three, I’ve got some ammunition For a thunderclap of honesty, I’ll stick with that position My way to vent, to breathe, let evil humors out A simple noisy prayer that says, “I lived, I ate, now I’ll shout.”

(instrumental verse with searing guitar solo)

Chorus Be loud, be proud — let your gas pains disappear Raise your glass and sing it out for all the world to hear From the infant’s gentle burp to the barroom’s midnight shout, Be loud, be proud — that’s what life’s about.

And you can always, blame it on the dog!