Greetin's, y'all. Things they's turned f'r the worse here at the ol' Cabaret. Fleein' west 'bout any which a way we cain here, be it an ol' country road or a box car smellin' a' cow piss. Cain't hardly see the sky, what with the dust storms over Okie. Don't make no diff'rence anywho.
Them juke joints a' Mississippi, they was good an' all, but them ol' boys in the white hoods...well, seems a might o' them is also the ones wearin' the blue down in them woods, iffin' ya' get my drift. Lot a' folks, cain't make ends meet what with the economy goin' bad and our electid offic'ls ain't worth a tinker's damn, so we's got a full house tonight. Grab yer harmonica or Jew's harp, 'cause someone got a fiddle an' another a jug an' another a guitar, ol' fella out'a Texas name a' Woody Guthrie here playin' the blues, speakin' right to the hard heart o' the matter. Drinkin' hard t' come by, but someone got some bathtub gin an' there's some limes, so we're goin' real fancy with a little drink the city boys call a Gimlet. Ain't much, but it's better'n nuthin'.
Now, ol' Woody, he's got a mess a' talent with that guitar, an' he's goin' places, iffin' he get half a chance. Bound to make a big mark on music, an' inspire a whole breed a' folk musicians in the future. Course right now he's just another Okie headed west to escape the Dust Bowl, which is what he's singin' about tonight. You might'a heard some of his songs, like one This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land, which I hear is a might bit famous, but tonight we're Talkin' Dustbowl Blues.
Ol' Woody was born in Oklahoma, though lived 'till recent in Texas. His dad was one of them Klan folks I talked about. Woody saw his dad lynch a man at a young age, ain't been too proud a' such things since. Says he's gonna stand up 'gainst such things, fight them boys. He ain't too happy 'bout what's goin' on in Europe neither, says the Italians and Germans goin' Fascist, whatever that means, an' says his guitar's a weapon to kill Fascists. Hell, what a bunch o' crazy folks in Europe's doin', I cain't see how it matters t' us Americans. I mean, after that last damn fool war, who in their right mind gonna start another? But he's set on doin' somethin' 'bout it. What can you say? Musicians, 'specially geniuses like Woody, they's a little strange.
Well, after a jam like that, it's time t' enjoy the finer things in life, like tonight's cocktail, the Gimlet. It's a pretty new one. Hear it's kinda like a Martini, but with lime juice rather'n veermooth. Feller over there, say he used t' be a Wall Street big shot, but done lost his shirt in the '29 crash, say it were a favorite o' his. An' since we got what f'r lack o' a better word we'll call "gin", an' crates o' limes from outa the Keys...well, seem natural. Ain't got the sugar an' ice ol' Wall Street say we need, but all said works better than "sterno ala sock", you ask me.
- 2 oz. gin or vodka
- 1/2 oz. lime juice 
- 1/4 to 1/2 oz. simple syrup 
Shake gin and sweetened lime juice over ice and strain into an Old Fashioned or Cocktail glass (or dented tin cup, if that's all you got). Garnish with a lime wedge.
1 - Or substute Rose's lime juice for the syrup. Keep in mind the drink should be tart rather than sweet.