When I founder her
She was a basket case
Not the kind you dress up
In fancy frilly white lace...
Her valves needed some T.L.C.
Gaskets desired some renewal
She had some years over me
Still she'll be that perfect jewel...
I scavenged parts here
Found sweet sounding pipes there
With a three inch springer front
She'll make citizens stop and stare...
We travel up and down the High Plains
Stopping at ghost towns of days past
Sunrise to sundown to sunrise
The days melt together so fast...
A knuckle with a suicide shift
Just right for my six foot six inch frame
Since I met her, my perfect basket case
My life will never be quite the same...
Citizens call me a "High Plains Drifter"
I live by my saber and my fourty five
It's best you not cross my path in anger
For this "High Plains Drifter will bury you alive...
JJSweets 07Sept20 14:04 hrs
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J