Well my daddy left Nar Shaddaa when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just a few old flimsies in some beat up picture frames.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "James."
Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some guy would giggle and I'd get red
And some girl'd laugh and I'd use the force instead,
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a girl named "James."
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My feet got burned and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from planet to planet to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moons and stars
That I'd search the pirate hangouts and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.
Well, it was there on Dac in mid-July
And I just touched down and my throat was dry,
I thought I'd stop to drown my vagabond shames.
At a sabacc shack in the driving rain,
There at a table, dealing the game,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "James."
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From the worn-out flimsi that my mother'd had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is 'James!' You gave me this name!
Now you're gonna die!!"
I force pushed him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the rain and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when,
He kicked like a tauntaun and he bit like a rhyxodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled Byl's first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: "Hon, this galaxy's rough
And if a girl's gonna make it, she's gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong."
He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and that's fine if that's your aim.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "James.'"
I got all choked up and I gave my pistol a hurl
And I called him my pa, and he called me his girl,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a daughter, I think I'm gonna name her
Bonny or Jenny! Anything damn thing but James! I still hate that name!
Big guddam hero.
And still no one buys you a drink. Not even from the well or what's on discount. Nope. Outta your own coin it goes. Saving the galaxy from a soul-ripping nightmare should at least afford you a free handy, shouldn't it? Ledo glanced down the bar, and the only female company in this two-bit watering hole giving him moon eyes was a Mon Cal. Sorry love. Not that a little fishy smell ever stopped ol' Ledo, but that was probably pushing it.
"Oi, barkeep. Gimme err...uhh...wossat?"
The Sullustan manning the bar followed the wavering finger to a dusty bottle with no label. He held the bottle up, and blew on it to clear the dust. Still nothing to denote its identity.
"It is..."
With effort, the stocky alien plied off the cork, taking a sniff. Still with no clue what to make of it, he pulled a glass and poured a finger's worth into a tumbler. The liquid came out a pale green color.
"...green."
Ledo Prent gave a bit of a shrug.
"Dabba th' green, den."
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