From the general store at old Gillies Bay
It’s twenty-two minutes or more I might say

If you drive a bit faster, it might be less,
‘Cept if at the recycler you unload your mess.

And longer, I swear, sure it will take,
If of lunch at the Tree Frog you do partake,

Slow down to salute our upholders of law,
And stop at the thrift store to buy stuff for Ma!

If you drop off your sample for Doc Black at the clinic,
And chat with the staff, don’t be a cynic.

You can still make the ferry for the twelve-oh-five,
But you’ll have to get started on the winding long drive!

So on through the corners, past Leaper road,
Swerve hard to miss vultures feasting on toad.

Slow at the Oasis, someone’s riding a horse,
And there’s kids walking dogs, off leashes of course!

Stay on the road past the green veggie stand
We there once got peaches, the ones that we canned.

At dusty Spragg road turn ’round the left curve,
And right again, uphill, and don’t lose your nerve!

Past the old house where the Stiles folks do stay,
Give them a toot as you pass their drive-way!

Then cross the big meadow and Zaikow’s old place,
This stretch taunts one to make some more haste.

And see the Log Inn, now sold it is said,
T’was a classy place once, with breakfast and bed.

The next of the drive is down to Priest Lake,
Where frogs cross and die bravely, but why, for gosh sake?

Best get some fuel at our only gas station,
Though prices are highest in the whole nation!

Gawk at the hotel; slow down at the hill,
Turn left to Jan’s bank and pay that old bill.

Then back to the car ’cause it’s sure getting late
With all these quick stops, but it’s just our darn fate.

Right at the Esso, but gain speed with due care,
Joggers n’ pests (with antlers) congregate there!

Pass the police-house, and then do a right turn,
Ah! Heischolt Lake; a swim does one yearn!

For just a half hour, so carry swim gear,
So in case of onlookers you’ll not have to fear.

And after a splash and a dive or two more,
Turn back from the water and head for the shore.

Run to the car with hair sopping and wet,
Jump in and start the trusty Chevette.

Down the long hill, past tall mountains of rock,
When the light turns green, charge onto the dock.

You’ve made the whole trip to the Blubber Bay ferry,
A bit late, a bit wet, but it ain’t all that hairy.

But next time, I think, you should take some more time,
And help make this poem have verses that rhyme!!