The Lass in the Glass

I loaded my troubles in a Sixty-Three Ford,

If truth could be told, I think I was bored.

At thirty below, there ain’t much to do,

‘cept git in a fight with a Great Northern crew.

The cowboys and hookers and Chippewa-Cree,

Won’t hang around with someone like me.

Drove toward Chinook, but I couldn’t pass through,

I decided to see if the legend was true.

Now the Lorelei that beckons to folks on the Rhine,

Ain’t got nuthin’ on Chinook’s famous sign.

She’s bold and she’s brassy and purdy damn sassy,

She’s fancy and classy, and one helluva lassie.

She sizzles in neon above the Elk Bar,

When I looked up, I near wrecked my car.

I stood there in awe and looked at that lass,

Kickin’ her boot heels out from the glass.

Loftin’ her cocktail and wavin’ her hat,

She’s a real beaut’ and I’m sure of that.

It’s hard to imagine a purdier sight,

Than a goddess of joy in the Montana night.

 I forgot all my troubles and sauntered on in,

To one of the best places I’ve ever been.

LDT January 16, ‘24

Main Menu: http://www.azrockdodger.com