Tonight I rolled into Butte, Montana.
Beating the M and M Bar’s last call.
Gram Parsons sang on the jukebox.
‘Streets of Baltimore.’
Mona loved that song
And I never done her wrong.
Last week in Bozeman, Montana
I woke to an empty bed
No sign of Mona.
Only a burning egg
And a note saying don’t follow her,
Because she never liked this town.
So it’s last call in Butte, Montana
One whiskey, one beer
And still no sign on Mona
But I keep seeing her here.
She wasn’t in Lakeside or Malta, Montana
Not a trace in Helena or Great Falls too.
So I drove west on I-90
I always knew where she had gone.
Last call in Butte, Montana
Holding hands with a can of beer
And still no sign of Mona,
But I keep seeing her here.
Mona loved the lights at the M and M.
She loved the cowboys too.
The bartender looked at her photo
He said, “Two night ago she came through.”
She hadn’t said where she was going,
Because this was where she’d gone.
Last call in Butte, Montana
Holding hands with a can of beer
And still no sign of Mona,
But I keep seeing her here.
I nodded my head and left the M and M
The bartender was happy to see me go.
Out on North Main Street
Rain keeps coming down
Every drop hitting my face
Making me feel like a clown
High heels on the sidewalk
I know that sound
Mona was coming here
To save me from all my fears
Especially Butte, Montana
Because we both loved it here.
To see THE STREETS OF BALTIMORE, please go to this YouTube URL