Those somber “good mornings”, sullen “good nights”, sober everything
Do they sit with you now sipping tea with my strangled dreams?
Are you watching the wood pile go down?, winter’s coming ‘round again
I will not fret with you this year darlin’
Drop me off at Bonnet Plume Lake
Fly me over the Wernecks and Bonnet Plume Range
If there’s nothing unique or pristine ‘bout this place
There’s still not a thing I’d want to change
A land that is measured by mass and product and gross value
A woman who’s worth is weighed by weakness, not strength
Spearhead a campaign to change all those tributaries
Gotta tear down a mountain to remember what you ever loved us for
Drop me off at Bonnet Plume Lake
Fly me over the Wernecks and Bonnett Plume Range
If there’s nothing unique or pristine ‘bout this place
There’s still not a thing I’d want to change
No breath taking beauty, no adventure on a river
The lake was still frozen but the ice was weak and it flooded
Went out with the dogs a few times but mostly I stayed home and cried
I won’t heed your warnings this year darlin’
Drop me off at Bonnet Plume Lake
Fly me over the Wernecks and Bonnet Plume Range
If there’s nothing unique or pristine ‘bout this place
There’s still not a thing I’d want to change
Copyright Kate Weekes 2007