The Frozen Logger

<p>As I sat down one evening within a small cafe<br/>A forty year old waitress to me these words did say:<br/><br/>&quot;I see that you are a logger, and not just a common bum<br/>&#x27;Cause nobody but a logger stirs his coffee with is thumb<br/><br/>My lover was a logger, there&#x27;s none like him today;<br/>If you&#x27;d pour whiskey on it he could eat a bale of hay<br/><br/>He never shaved his whiskers from off of his horny hide;<br/>He&#x27;d just drive them in with a hammer and bite them off inside<br/><br/>My lover came to see me upon one freezing day;<br/>He held me in his fond embrace which broke three vertebrae<br/><br/>He kissed me when we parted, so hard that he broke my jaw;<br/>I could not speak to tell him he&#x27;d forgot his mackinaw<br/>I saw my lover leaving, sauntering through the snow<br/>Going gaily homeward at forty-eight below<br/><br/>The weather it tried to freeze him, it tried its level best;<br/>At a hundred degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest<br/><br/>It froze clean through to China, it froze to the stars above;<br/>At a thousand degrees below zero, it froze my logger love<br/><br/>They tried in vain to thaw him, and would you believe me, sir<br/>They made him into axeblades, to chop the Douglas fir<br/><br/>And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I come<br/>And here I wait till someone stirs his coffee with his thumb.&quot;