As I sat down one evening,
was in a small café
forty year old waitress to me
these words did say

I see you that you are a logger
and not just [bad word] bum
'Cause nobody but a logger
stirs his coffee with his thumb

My lover he was a logger,
there's none like him today
Well if you'd pour whiskey on it
well he'd eat a bale of hay

He never used a razor
to shave his horny hide
He'd just drive them in with a hammer
then he'd bite them off inside

My lover he came to see me
was on a freezing day
He held me in a fond embrace
that broke three vertebraes

Well he kissed me when we parted
so hard that he broke my jaw
And I could not speak to tell him
he forgot his mackinaw

I saw my lover leaving
sauntering through the snow
Well going grimly homeward
at forty eight below

Wll the weather tried to freeze him
it tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero
why, he buttoned up his vest

It froze clean through to China
and it froze to the stars above
And at a thousand degrees below zero
it froze my logger love

And so I lost my lover
and to this café [bad word] And here I wait till someone
stirs his coffee with his thumb