Hermine Jung


Hermine Jung

Well, I met him in Maine

in the fall ninety-two.

He was driving along,

with his dog and his crew.


He sang; I am the Sheriff

but he sang like a deer,

who's got lost in the jungle

with a spider web fear.

My truck just went faster

and the load's going light.

The Sheriff was thirsty

and the crew was all right.

Then a cold day in April,

when we reached Eastport Bay

and the Customs went inside;

he had something to say:

"Are you joking, my fellow:

Where's the load to declare?

All you've got is these bottles

but no liquor to share."

So I looked in the lorry;

all the Whiskey was gone,

but the Sheriff was rambling

on a blanket for con.

He sang; follow the Sheriff,

we will just load and lock.

There's a new day tomorrow

and a new town do dock.

© 2013 Torbjörn Gideskog

I was taking a break

at a bar by the road.

I was trying to get

to the coast with my load.

He sang ballads and jazz,

he sang country and blues.

But he also sang rock,

after dark and some booze.

He was big, he was bold,

he was sharp as a nail.

But his voice was no better

than a rooster on sale.

Told him; well I'm heading

to a harbor northeast:

To make me some money

from the load on my beast.

He said; follow us man,

you just go by the trail.

And you'll travel much faster,

than the American Mail.

I stayed with the Sheriff

and I stayed with the crew;

to every disaster

that his vocal could stew.


2018 Torbjorn Gideskog © Copyright. All Rights Reserved.