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1996-07-23
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56 lines
From "Folksinger's Wordbook" (Oak Publications)
The Frozen Logger
As I sat down one evening
winthin a small cafe,
A 40 year-old waitres to me
these words did say:
"I see that you are a logger and not
just a common bum.
'Cause nobody but a logger stirs his
coffee with his thumb.
My lover, he was a logger, there's
none like hi today,
Well, if you'd pour whiskey on him,
well, he'd eat a bale of hay.
Well he never used a razor to
shave his horny hide,
He'd just drive them in with a hammer,
then he bit them off inside.
My lover he came to see me, 'twas
on a freezing day,
He held me in a fond embrace that
broke three vertebrae.
Well, he kissed me when we parted
so hard that he broke my jaw,
And I could not speak to tell him
he forgot his mackinaw.
I saw ny lover leaving, a-sauntering
through the snow,
While oging grimly homeward at
forty-eight below.
Well, the weather it tried to freeze him,
it tried its level best,
At a hundred degrees below zero,
why he buttoned up his vest.
It froze clear through to China;
and it froze to the stars above,
And at a thousand degrees below zero,
it froze my logger love.
And so I lost my lover, and to this
cafe i come,
And here I wait till someone stirs
his coffee with his thumb."
*-words and music by James Stevens-*