Song Index Preview "Logger Love" (to help remember the tune).

Logger Love (Traditional)

CGG7C
As I sat down one evening 'twas in a small cafe,
C7FG
A forty year old waitress to me these words did
C
say:
CGG7
"I see you are a logger and not just a common
CC7FG
bum For nobody but a logger stirs coffee with
C
his thumb.
CGG7
My lover was a logger, there's none like him
CC7FG
today, If you poured whiskey on it, he'd eat a
C
bale of hay.
CGG7
He never shaved his whiskers from off of his
CC7F
horny hide, He's drive them in with a hammer and
     
GC
bite them off inside.
CGG7C
My lover came to see me, 'twas on a stormy day,
C7FG
He held me in a fond embrace and broke three
C
vertebrae.
CGG7
He kissed me when we parted, so hard he broke my
CC7FG
jaw That I couldn't speak to tell him he forgot
C
his mackinaw.
CGG7
I saw my logger lover go sauntering through the
CC7FGC
snow, A-goin' gaily homeward at forty-eight below.
CGG7
The weather tried to freeze him, it tried its
CC7F
level best. At a hundred degrees below zero, he
GC
buttoned up his vest.
     
CGG7
It froze clear down to China, it froze to the
CC7F
stars above, At a thousand degrees below zero,
GC
it froze my logger love.
CG
They tried in vain to thaw him, and if you
G7CC7F
believe me, sir. They cut him into to axe
GC
blades, to chop the Douglas fir.
CGG7
And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I've
CC7F
come, To sit and wait for someone who stirs
GC
coffee with his thumb.

Logger Love (Traditional)                             it froze my logger love.                          
                                                                                                        
As I sat down one evening 'twas in a small cafe,      They tried in vain to thaw him, and if you        
A forty year old waitress to me these words did       believe me, sir. They cut him into to axe         
say:                                                  blades, to chop the Douglas fir.                  
                                                                                                        
"I see you are a logger and not just a common         And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I've     
bum For nobody but a logger stirs coffee with         come, To sit and wait for someone who stirs       
his thumb.                                            coffee with his thumb.                            
                                                                                                        
My lover was a logger, there's none like him                                                            
today, If you poured whiskey on it, he'd eat a                                                          
bale of hay.                                                                                            
                                                                                                        
He never shaved his whiskers from off of his                                                            
horny hide, He's drive them in with a hammer and                                                        
bite them off inside.                                                                                   
                                                                                                        
My lover came to see me, 'twas on a stormy day,                                                         
He held me in a fond embrace and broke three                                                            
vertebrae.                                                                                              
                                                                                                        
He kissed me when we parted, so hard he broke my                                                        
jaw That I couldn't speak to tell him he forgot                                                         
his mackinaw.                                                                                           
                                                                                                        
I saw my logger lover go sauntering through the                                                         
snow, A-goin' gaily homeward at forty-eight below.                                                      
                                                                                                        
The weather tried to freeze him, it tried its                                                           
level best. At a hundred degrees below zero, he                                                         
buttoned up his vest.                                                                                   
                                                                                                        
It froze clear down to China, it froze to the                                                           
stars above, At a thousand degrees below zero,