The Friday Night Posting While Drunk Post!

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River of Blazing Bourbon
In 1996 seven warehouses at Heaven Hill Distillery near Bardstown, KY burned. The fire was fueled by an approximate 90,000 barrels of whiskey (nearly 7.7 million gallions) and of course, oak barrels. A burning whiskey river flowed from the distillery and ignited nearly two miles of a nearby creek. The fire could be seen for miles. I love whiskey. Fire is captivating. The imagery that the story brings to mind is powerful. I just learned of the story from an article in No Depression about the Blind Corn Liquor Pickers. They have a song about the event entitled, River of Blazing Bourbon.

River of Blazing Bourbon
(Lyrics by: T. Young / Composed by: J. Serdenis, T. Young)

Chorus:
River of blazing bourbon, rollin' down from on Heaven's Hill
Twenty-foot tidal wave of whiskey
Bearin' down on Bardstown where I live
Bearin' down on Bardstown where I live

On a brisk autumn morn, gray and chill to the core
This old town slowly stirred out of sleep
From this calm rose a gale, bearing lightnin? and hail
Takin' aim at the whiskey we keep
Well, the warehouse was hit, fire spread through and spit
Out its booze like a molten lava flow
Workers cried what's the use, stop the alcohol abuse
And dove into the potable glow

Chorus

Preacher Jim watched the swell, from a cross-town hotel
As he paid her hourly wage
Just to stave off regrets or to hedge all his bets
He dropped down on his knees for to pray
Sayin' Lord I have sinned, just don't group me with them
Other heathens who will not take heed
Throw these unbelievers in, throw these unbelievers in
Let the seven headed goat be my steed

Chorus

Old crotchety Joe, couldn't stifle the flow
Though he formed an impeccable plan
With siding from barns and rusted old cars
He constructed a whale of a dam
Well, the river hit big, snapped the dike like a twig
Left Old Joe in his trailer all alone
But how its value would soar on a whiskey reservoir
No one but the good Lord would know

Chorus

The judge's boy, John, nearly swallowed his bong
As the fiery pageant rolled by
No sooner was it cashed, he'd a plan fully hashed
For catching those rapids on the fly
In his kayak he flit, through the whitewater lit
Like an ember 'd been spit from the flame
With each eskimo roll, he took two shots or so
'til his buzz reached a rapturous plane

Chorus

Well, the bourbon it linked up with Beech River Creek
Makin' cocktails of all its surrounds
From this bourbon, the trout grew forceful and stout
Yankin' polls clean from fishermen's hands
Well it wove and it crept, up the hill on it stepped
To the edge of the Cornbread Moses still
When old Moses saw the scene, he set to cloggin' like a fiend
Made the river part and die out on the hill