Pioneer Saloon

[Verse 1]

Years ago, while visiting my brother
In Las Vegas through the winter cold,
We drove out toward the town of Goodsprings,
Past a graveyard weathered, still and old.

Steve said, “There’s a place you ought to see here,”
Then pointed farther down that dusty road.
The Pioneer Saloon stood there alone,
Like the last old story the desert hadn’t closed.

Motorcycles crowded by the doorway,
Chrome and leather shining in the sun.
We took a breath and stepped inside together,
Not knowing what we’d done, done.

[Early Chorus]
We didn’t know what we were walking into,
Didn’t know what waited past that door.
Motorcycles, smoke and strangers,
Cigarettes, whiskey and old plank floors.
We anxiously walked around the bar,
Ordered beers and tried to play it cool.
We didn’t know what we were walking into—
But soon we’d learn the local rules.

[Verse 2]
It was dark inside, the fire was burning,
Wood smoke hanging softly in the room.
Bullet holes were punched through the old tin walls,
With a sign explaining who had met his doom.

People by the doorway drank and laughed,
Trading stories up and down the bar.
We settled at the far end with our beers,
Feeling like we’d traveled twice as far.

The bartender asked where we came from.
“Atlanta,” we replied from our stools.
Then she asked if we’d be there that weekend.
We said, “Why?” She smiled, “We’ve got a few rules.”

[Early Chorus]
We didn’t know what we were walking into,
Didn’t know what waited past that door.
Motorcycles, smoke and strangers,
Bullet holes and stories in the walls.
We found ourselves some bar stools,
Ordered beers and tried to play it cool.
We didn’t know what we were walking into—
But now we’d learn the local rules.

[Verse 3]
She said, “The club is holding a charity meeting.
It’s for the children—we do a lot of good.”
She told us how they raised and gave the money,
Then paused exactly where a good bartender would.

She pointed toward the crowd and raised her voice:
“This club is full of assholes, through and through.
Every person sitting in this bar is one—
And for a small fee, boys, you can be one too.”

[Main Chorus]
We became card-carrying assholes
At the Pioneer Saloon.
Paid our dues and raised our glasses
One Nevada afternoon.
They gave us cards and certificates,
Then swore us in there one by one.
We became card-carrying assholes—
And that’s when all the real fun had begun.

[Verse 4]
We ordered one more round of courage,
Paid the fee and signed upon the line.
Then she called us forward for the swearing,
One proud new member at a time.

We took the oath with proper honor
While every asshole watched us from the bar.
Bona fide and duly certified—
I became number three-seventy-four.

No longer strangers at the far end,
We joined the stories and the noise.
When we finally headed for the doorway,
We turned and hollered to the boys:

[Post-Chorus]
“See ya, assholes!”
And the whole room shouted back.
“See ya, assholes!”
As we walked out past the bikes in black.
An hour before, we’d entered cautiously;
Now we belonged inside that room—
Certified and numbered for eternity
At the Pioneer Saloon.

[Bridge]
Years went by, but I remembered
That old saloon beside the sand.
So one early December morning,
I took Richard back there by the hand.

The building looked about the same,
Though the place had clearly grown.
We had a beer and looked around,
Then asked the bartender in a low tone:

[Verse 5]
“Are there still any assholes here these days?”
He laughed and looked around the crowded room.
“Almost everybody here’s an asshole.”
I said, “Then Richard ought to join you pretty soon.”

He climbed upon the bar and stopped the jukebox,
Took the microphone and quieted the crowd.
He read the proclamation like a preacher,
And every asshole answered clear and loud.

Richard stood there smiling through the ceremony,
The newest certified member of them all—
Number twenty-one-six-seventy-nine,
Welcomed by the assholes at the bar.

Yes, we’re both card-carrying assholes,
And we’ve got the cards to prove.
Two different days, two different stories,
But the same old desert room.
From Atlanta to the Nevada dust,
We found a club where we belonged—
At the Pioneer Saloon,
Where every asshole sings along.

[Outro]
Raise your beer and greet your neighbor.
Let the jukebox shake the room.
When you leave, just yell, “See ya, asshole!”

[Gang Vocal]
“SEE YA, ASSHOLE!”

[Outro]
From the Pioneer Saloon.