Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bonita And Bill Butler, artist - Alison Krauss.
Date of issue: 31.12.2010
Song language: English
Bonita And Bill Butler |
I grew up in the scantling yards of Wheeling West Virginia |
A wheelhouse cub looking for an open door |
In the packet ways a Sweeney wed the keel of my Bonita |
Just two months from her timbers til she moored |
I paid the fare in billet on her maiden voyage to Vicksburg |
And talked my way to hand the tiller on the course |
In her planks I carved a notch and sealed the vow «Be my Bonita» |
And her dowry was my life between the shores |
I was born with rouging ways, and she steered me like a woman |
From the port calls and the bawds that lead me stray |
The calliope serenades, made the old towns come running |
And the boys would gamble shards to pull her chains |
The striker’s boast would fain me loss, about the wrecks the shoals were keeping |
And how the old girl’s got poor Billy’s ransom saved |
On the lake at Bistineau, she set the wharf at Dixie |
With a thousand bales of cotton on her main |
As the great raft disappeared, the watermark went sinking |
And she was stuck right hard, a listing on the bank |
With the furnace still a blaze, I stood my last upon her |
Then climbed the prow and took a landsman’s trade |
«A derelict now Milady» said the watch log I’ve concorded |
«Have the bosun sound us eight bells for the change» |
Cause I was born with rouging ways, and she steered me like a woman |
From the port calls and the bawds that lead me stray |
The calliope serenades, made the old towns come running |
And the boys would gamble shards to pull her chains |
And I would take to wider walks, so the gin I stopped a drinking |
At three scores aloft this crooked frame |
The striker’s boast would fain me loss, about the wrecks the shoals were keeping |
And how the old girl’s got poor Billy’s ransom saved |