My Friend Elaine
My friend Elaine, slept in a Volkswagon Beetle
A convertible red one, parked under Bremerton skies
My friend Elaine loved her vegetables with the peel on
With seeds in her teeth, and juice on her chin
She played one mean mandolin, my friend Elaine
My friend Elaine hails from up there in Buffalo
Where the wicked winds still blow, though long ago she escaped
My friend Elaine loved her beer with the next one
Drank tequila with every other one
She played one angry mandolin, my friend Elaine
Twenty years later where is she
Twenty years later, I feel her with me
Twenty years later, I sit with the memory
Of a renegade gypsy, a young girl, a ghost
My friend Elaine made her living on a tugboat
Made her home in her pocket, while cooking for sailors
My friend Elaine, was the rarest of rare birds
She’d take off with no word, Hey, where ya goin’ Elaine?
Twenty years later I’m still here
Twenty years later, I worry with fear
That in twenty more years, I’ll lose my memory
Of a renegade gypsy, a young girl, a ghost
My friend Elaine, took to singing and sailing
From Cape Town Africa, New Zealand, back to Zaire
Then today comes a photo, from a soiree in Uganda
She was decked up in a party dress
Yes, that would be my friend Elaine
She was posing in a black satin formal
With a white beaded collar that hung off her shoulders
She stood by a table laid for a banquet
In big hair and makeup - it’s looking like dry-dock
Elaine
Twenty years later, she’s right there,
Twenty years later, no signs of fear
And in twenty more years, I will pull out this picture
Of a beautiful gypsy
This elegant renegade
No longer a young girl
No longer a ghost
She made landfall in lilies, my friend Elaine
©1998 Sally Fingerett, Green Fingers Music, BMI