Casting their net wide and with reckless abandon, The Old Smugglers done smuggled themselves a stupendous stash of serenaders, rapscallions, and ne'erdowells. Aboard a sinking dinghy on the rising tide and untethered from the anchors of regret, this transient circus of shipwrecked fools will invade your earholes bringing their own uncontrolled precision to an inebriation of songs, shamblings of sonnets, casket of canticles, and a musical chairs of exquisite corpses. Baptized by the unyielding waters of fury and forged by the raging fire of vitriol, The Old Smugglers, shoutier than thou, ascend toward the water's surface and proclaim victory over mediocrity and malfeasance.
