The first thing that comes to my mind: "Pour me another Tequila, Sheila," sung by Bobby Bare, reproduced here for educational purposes. It's not my favorite country song, but it's the last tune I heard turning into my garage this afternoon, and it made me smile (Turns out Sheila was a squealer.) Country music always brings on a smile, or a tear, which is why I keep my car radio tuned to Willie's Roadhouse.
Never mind that I grew up with Italian opera, applauding the Sons of Italy band as they marched through the streets of Revere, Massachusetts, and sometimes through restaurants, playing the Triumphal March from Aida.
When I need a quick fix for character, story, language, I go to country music:
• I bought the shoes that just walked out on me.
• I gave ya that name and I said goodbye; I knew you'd have to get tough or die.
• Hello, walls. How'd things go for you today?
• I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart; up the elevator of your future I've been shafted.
• Well, I hope that the train, From Caribou Maine, runs over your new love affair.
I wish I could write something with beat, a little bit of rhyme, and a lot of impact.