Winter and I (Carol Denney) You're no New Yorker, but you sound just as strange to me You think these shoes are a bargain -- you're wrong They'll take you the circuit of this motor-through island And fade like the summer as soon as you're gone Of course I've been drinking; I do it all summer It starts every morning, be it whisky or wine Give directions to tourists and sell them these sandals And curse the mosquitos and drink myself blind Winter and I get what's left of the island When the tourists are gone and the snow flies Winter and I get along on the island She's a fine one to talk to; she never replies They drive round the island like they're changing the channels And buy themselves sandals and then drive away They could buy them in Boston, but, hell, I don't mind it The summer-folk keep me in cordwood 'til May Summer out here has a dangerous magic The tourists are careful -- I guess I know why They can take it in pictures from cars and on weekends But they can't take it straight, I guess -- neither can I Winter and I... I'm sober all winter. I do like my whisky But alone on the island I don't drink at all I'll be drunk when the spring sets its foot on the island And sober as stone just as soon as it's fall When it's sunny there won't be a sound on the island Except for snow melting and sounds of the bay I'll set up my rocker in the middle of Main Street And smoke like a chimney and practice all day copyright Carol Denney JN oct96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!