Tag Archives: Thill. Poem

Back in the Eighties some friends came to call, They were hopin’ to see America’s all. Now eight people don’t fit in a green MGB, A Super-cab Ford or a red Mercury. Rented a Southwind, it could sleep eight, If it gets to Montana, that would be great. Four fifty-four and leaky exhaust, There’s noContinue reading “Southwind”