I stopped for a
drink at th’ hotel on the lake
Without an idea
what strange course that would take.
A beer and cigar
before somebody asked
Of a girl who
had led “an interesting past.”
The old man who
asked was an old man in need
Who weighed my
reply with a great deal of heed.
“Oh,” he sighed deeply, “but that woman could Rev
My life is indifferent without my Wild Bev.”
A silence
descended as sharp as a knife
The whole bar
stood still – there was no sign of life.
A sudden
crescendo as every man cheer'd
Reflected the view
that Wild Bev was revered.
A thousand
voices at once b’gan to boast
Of rumours and
stories they all loved the most.
Recollections
were true and nothing said fake
This was Wild
Bev, and to them she was great.
Amidst all the
shoutings a voice rang out clear
The men they
stood silent and looked to the rear.
The voice said, “Wild Bev, she was better than most,
Join me, my friends, as I call for a toast!”
“A toast! A toast!” The
men shouted loud
One hundred men
strong if it was a crowd.
“Wild Bev is not here but we shout her name strong
Our memories of her we shall treasure for long.”
Until late in
the night I told them my side
And in their
reply there was nothing to hide.
A shame that
someone whom a party could host
Should spend her
days now alongside the coast.
The road, now, is
lonely alongside th’ hotel,
“Here were adventures,” men
their children will tell.
“No more is Wild Bev singing into the night
And when not in song – boy, could she fight!”
Here ends the
ballad of a girl named Wild Bev
Open the whisky
and the party would Rev.
Nowadays with
pride patrons still laud her name
“Wild Bev,” they cheer
loud. “Now there was a dame!”
Mark
van Vuuren (c)2019
