Frozen logger – folkstuff

As I sat down one evening
Inside a small cafe
A forty year old waitress
To me these words did say

I see that you are a logger
And not just a common bum
For no-one but a logger
Stirs his coffee with his thumb

My lover he was a logger
There's none like him today
If you poured whisky on it
He would eat a bale of hay

And he never shaved his whiskers
From off of his horny hide
He just banged 'em in with a hammer
Then he chewed them off inside

My lover he came to see me
Upon one frozen day
He held me in his fond embrace
And broke me vertebrae

And he kissed me when he parted
So hard that he broke my jaw
So I could not speak to tell him
He'd forgot his mackinaw

Well the weather tried to freeze him
It did its level best
At one hundred degrees below zero
He just buttoned up his vest

Well it froze clear through to China
It froze to the stars above
At one thousand degrees below zero well
It froze my logger love

And so I lost my lover
To this cafe I did come
And here I wait till someone stirs
Their coffee with their thumb