..Stirred His Coffee With His Thumb..
pbuc...@yknet.yk.ca
Looking for lyrics/composer to an older sung (apparently sung by
Odetta among others) - about a logger who stirred his coffee with his
thumb. It's been suggested to me that it's called "My Lover is a
Logger."
Thanks for any help you can provide@
Dan Goodman
It's "The Frozen Logger". If you have web access, you should be able to
find the info at Digital Tradition -- I don't have the URL handy, but you
can get there via my web page.
In article <5rsu4s$nap$1...@usenet88.supernews.com>,
--
Dan Goodman
dsg...@visi.com
http://www.visi.com/~dsgood/index.html
Whatever you wish for me, may you have twice as much.
Steven Sellors
pbuc...@yknet.yk.ca wrote:
>
> Looking for lyrics/composer to an older sung (apparently sung by
> Odetta among others) - about a logger who stirred his coffee with his
> thumb. It's been suggested to me that it's called "My Lover is a
> Logger."
>
> Thanks for any help you can provide@
You men THE FROZEN LOGGER? It was written by James Stevens (who?).
THE FROZEN LOGGER
(James Stevens)
As I sat down one evening within a small cafe,
A forty year old waitress to me these words did say:
"I see that you are a logger, and not just a common bum,
'Cause nobody but a logger stirs his coffee with is thumb.
My lover was a logger, there's none like him today;
If you'd pour whiskey on it he could eat a bale of hay
He never shaved his whiskers from off of his horny hide;
He'd just drive them in with a hammer and bite them off inside.
My lover came to see me upon one freezing day;
He held me in his fond embrace which broke three vertebrae.
He kissed me when we parted, so hard that he broke my jaw;
I could not speak to tell him he'd forgot his mackinaw.
I saw my lover leaving, sauntering through the snow,
Going gaily homeward at forty-eight below.
The weather it tried to freeze him, it tried its level best;
At a hundred degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest.
It froze clean through to China, it froze to the stars above;
At a thousand degrees below zero, it froze my logger love.
They tried in vain to thaw him, and would you believe me, sir
They made him into axeblades, to chop the Douglas fir.
And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I come,
And here I wait till someone stirs his coffee with his thumb."
The tune can be heard at:
http://www.onstagemedia.com/cgi-shl/as_web.exe?April97+D+3593188
--
Steven Sellors
Grand Bay, NB, CANADA
Irwin Silber
James Stevens was, I believe, the author of the Paul Bunyan stories.
Irwin Silber
.
Jim Spinelli
THE FROZEN LOGGER Traditional
arr: Jim Kweskin
E B7 E
As I sat down one evening, within a small cafe
E A B7 E
A forty year old waitress, to me these words did say
I see you are a logger, and not just a common bum
'Cause nobody but a logger, stirs his coffee with his thumb
My lover was a logger, there's none like him today
If you'd pour whiskey on it, he could eat a bale of hay
He never shaved his whiskers, from off his horny hide
He'd just drive them in with a hammer, and bite them off inside
My lover came to see me, 'twas on a freezing day
He held me in a fond embrace, and broke three vertebrae
He kissed me when we parted, so hard it broke my jaw
And I couldn't speak to tell him, he'd forgot his mackinaw
I saw my lover leaving, sauntering through the snow
Going gaily homeward, at forty-eight below
The weather it tried to freeze him, it tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest
It froze clear through to China, it froze to the stars above
At a thousand degrees below zero, it froze my logger love
And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I come
And here I wait 'til someone stirs his coffee with his thumb
pbuc...@yknet.yk.ca wrote in article
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