Well the co-op wasn’t busy,
When a Yamaha or whatever Pulled up and a grey-haired
Seems there was a party
Of film types swarming Star’sDoing pick-ups and a reshoot
For some “Highlander” joint.
Peterson’s had a big lobster
Order come in, and there was Noticeable energy in the air
Over the way down
No proclamation mayoral,
Nor danced town square,For the Bondman, the
Man Who Would Be King.
Just a “How’reyou” & a wink,
Then the motorbike ricedIts way back towards the
Holy Pike blacktop two-lane.
Perhaps someone revered
Sean with legend tales ofDaring-do tourist square war,
Shotgun wads fired galore!
Only one knows, but others
Maintain yet that on stillAutumn mornings Star’s
Mountain yields bagpipe melody.
Tur rah lur ra lurie,
Tur rah lur rah lou.
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