As I stepped out one morning into a small café A forty year old waitress to me these words did say She said I see sir you’re 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’ pour little whiskey upon it he’ eat bale of hay My lover came to see me twas on one freezing day He threw his arms around me and broke three vertebrae I saw my lover leaving a trudging through the snow A-going gaily homeward at forty-eight below The weather tried to freeze him it tried its level best At a thousand degrees below zero he buttoned up his vest It froze clear through to China it froze to the stars above At a million degrees below zero it froze my logger love And so I lost my logger and to this cafe I come And here I wait till someone stirs his coffee with his thumb