Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA
The dim-lit bar was dank and dark and occupied by few.
Sadness, lonliness and despair
Seemed to linger everywhere,
Melancholy filled the air
For those few lonely castabouts
Who ended their daily roundabouts
By sipping a ten cent brew.
What atmosphere the room posessed! from sawdust on the floor
Where boots from many unhappy men
trampled o'er and o'er again
To and from this murky den,
Men who had loved,men who had lost,
Men who had chanced and paid the cost
And never would again.
'Twas getting late that winter's day when the stranger crossed the light.
A curious glance or two his way
(old man didn't know he could not stay)
Instead they heard the stranger say,
"One quick brew and I must be gone
To get home to my telephone.
My lady calls tonight!"
The heads around the bar shook "NO!". The stranger was not one!
How dare he enter and intrude
Upon their den of solitude,
Mix laughter with their somber mood!
But the barman sensed an urgency
And asked the old man quietly,
"How long since she hasn't phoned?"
"Oh, fifteen years, nearer twenty, I guess." He smiled in somber light.
"I'm sure she caught up with disaster.
When she calls, though, I won't ask her.
I've never tried to play the master.
Her love for me is strong and steady.
I know she'll call when she is ready -
And tonight will be the night!"
The eyes around the bar grew moist at the poor, lost, little louse.
The barman, in the light so dim,
Filled a cup up to the brim
And sat it down in front of him.
"Then hurry. You don't have much time.
Chug this one down - no, save your dime.
This one's on the house".
A month had passed, or maybe two, in the early days of spring
Into that room of tears and booze
While sipping on their daily brews
The same old men had heard the news;
That old man had been found all alone
With fingers clutching a telephone -
A phone that never rang.