Monday, June 24, 2013

Saloon Sharp Shooters, Raymond, Washington, circa 1950

Now that one last dude has shot 
His wad of nickels into the belly of the beast 
And cleared out just before closing time, in comes 
That upstairs Greek immigrant tenement urchin who starts 
Biting the dust under the row of abandoned pinball machines. 

He knows if he hangs in there and keeps 
A sharp eye out for any strays, the understanding 
Irish lady of the saloon will once again look 
The other way and let him pocket 
One more buffalo head or two, surely 

A good day’s killing for the likes 
Of the both of them. 


  1. on the way up to Duvall
    in 1974
    Jamie Brownlow and I stopped in Raymond

    (or near

    bought a few dozen oysters and cooked 'em in a fire where we camped out.

    don't remember the saloon... which might be were we bout the Rainier Beer

  2. 1974 found me back in Greece but I did get my share of oysters to eat while I was growing up and going to high school on Willapa Harbor; best oysters this guy has ever eaten was at the Chester Tavern in South Bend and from what I hear, it still delivers the goods without any frills and fancy marketing that invariably damage such ware.


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