The Frozen Logger

As I sat down one evening
Within a small café
A forty year old waitress
To a man these words did say
"Well, I see you are a logger
And not just a common bum
For nobody but a logger
Stirs his coffee with his thumb

My lover was a logger
There's none like him today
If you poured whisky on it
He could eat a bale of hay
Well he never shaved his whiskers
Them off of his horny hide
He drove them in with a hammer
And bit them off inside

My lover came to see me
Upon one freezing day
He held me in a fond embrace
Which broke three vertebrae
He kissed me before we parted
So hard that it broke my jaw
I could not speak to tell him
He forgot his Mackinaw

Well I saw my lover leaving
Sauntering through the snow
Going bravely homeward
At forty-eight below

For the weather tried to freeze him
Tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero
He buttoned up his vest

Well it froze clear to the china
Froze to the stars above
At a thousand degrees below zero
It froze my logger love

And so my lover dying
To this café I've come
And here I'll wait 'til someone
Stirs his coffee with his thumb."