I had a dream a couple of months ago that I was in a group of familiar people, musicians mostly, including my sometimes songwriting partner and producer Josh Jones. We were in this tiny restaurant and he and I had just agreed to write a song. Some of the lines were as vivid as if I had learned them years ago by memory and when I woke up, I climbed out of bed, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down all I could remember. The bare bones of that dream came to be “Wayne and Maggie’s Grill” about memories and loss and a certain place in the world everyone has, one that holds special, even magical, significance, but is lost to the ages. I’ve put a chart here.
[chorus]
where I’m from there ain’t no snow
and the river goes by slow
but the truckers mostly keep the hammer down
every folk and country singer
who played for tips and drinks and dinner
came to Wayne and Maggie’s Grill when they hit town
[verse 1]
that damn six lane interstate
cuts through town and up the hills
and when they put it in
it took out Wayne and Maggie’s Grill
just a whisper of a place
where Maggie’s food was hot and right,
eight tables and Wayne’s bar
and live music every night
[verse 2]
we used to call Wayne “warden”
’cause once he held a job
down at the local sheriff’s
when they was rounding up the mob
and in the Grill’s back corner
where the paint was dark with age
he put up a foot hazard
he liked to call a stage
[verse 3]
Maggie was a looker
back when Wayne had made his move
and with age she just got better
and she and Wayne fell more in love
they put everything they had
into that Grill over the years
and when it got tore down
the whole town shed the tears
[verse 4]
Wayne passed away this morning
when the cancer put him down
and Maggie’s getting on now
and their kids live out of town
but the memory of her cooking
and the music and goodwill
fills my soul with warmth and longing
for the old days at the Grill
