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« on: May 23, 2019, 11:23:02 pm »
(with apologies to the Irish Rovers, and to Lordsburg, NM)
O there's nothing so lonesome,
So morbid by far
As to stay in the KOA,
of a town with no bar.
Greybeard, our leader, he thinks it is Lent
He's gone home cold sober, to sleep in his tent
No bikers will gather, from near or from far
to hear all our tales, in a town with no bar
Our pacer's from Sweden, he eats a whole bunch
Eight enchiladas and that's just for lunch
But he won't touch a bite, not even a Clif Bar
When faced the horror of a town with no bar
Our cook, he's a lawyer and he's on the case,
Gathering evidence from residents we face.
But the local Judge laughs, out loud, HAR DEE HAR
Your objections' not granted, in a town with no bar
A new friend, from Belgium, fallen in with our crew
Carries all his possessions in a panier or two.
But his longing for travel sleeping under the stars
melts like cheese in the desert in a town with no bar.
O there's nothing so lonesome,
So morbid by far
As to stay in the KOA,
of a town with no bar.