My Last Lucky Strike

[good4somethingbum]

My Last Lucky Strike ©2014 Robert George BMI

I turned off the country station in my Ford
Wiped a tear and pulled into an all night store
And I hadn’t touched a single cigarette
Ever since what happened to my Uncle Fred
But I looked at shelves of Winstons and Pall Malls
I picked out my fav’rite brand,
And then paid the nice old man
Then I drifted back as I recalled

My last Lucky Strike
On a cool Virginia night
Smoke seemed to float and fly
Like a ghost in the sky
And that was my last Lucky Strike

Then I drove around a while in my old truck
Parked out by a dark, deserted aquaduct
Thought of summer evenings on my Uncle’s porch
How he’d grab his six-string and show me some chords
I still miss him and that Shenandoah shack
I looked at that pack of smokes,
And the mem’ries they evoked
Seemed to take my spirit back

To my last Lucky Strike
On a cool Virginia night
Smoke seemed to float and fly
Like a ghost in the sky
And that was my last Lucky Strike

Uncle Fred’d put away at least two packs a day
Though I knew my dad, would be really mad
I’d steal some from my Uncle, anyway

And then I heard my song on the radio
My heart reached back to my roots from long ago
So I sat there and tore off that cellophane
Thought of lonesome country tunes,
And a good man gone too soon
And that cigarette became

My last Lucky Strike
On a cool Virginia night
And the smoke seemed to float and fly
Like a ghost in the sky
And that was my last Lucky Strike

Now my Uncle is gone
But wherever his soul is at
I hope he sings along,
If he hears the song
I called “Shenandoah Shack”…