It was Friday night I think
And I had just come back
From visiting a friend
Who wasn't at home.
Now I pulled in the driveway
And figured it was still too early
To go inside
So I kept going past the barn
Behind the house
Out into the field of freshly
Planted corn, right along
The tractor trail, up to the top
Of the hill which crests
About a quarter of a mile
From the barn.
I reached the top of the hill
And shut off the car
Just left the radio on
And the moon was almost full.
The radio announcer said
He would play the first
Operetta that Richard Strauss
Wrote after a failed attempt
At an opera. Now I don't know
Much about music but it sounded
Sort of like a Waltz and
There was a certain false gaiety to it.
It was about midnight and of course
It was dark, so I couldn't see across
The lake like I could during the day
Which is the reason that I come
Up to this spot at all.
So I just sat there and listened.
Maybe an hour went by, I couldn't
Say for sure. But I figured that
It was time to go in.
Now instead of turning around
By driving over the corn
I went up over the crest of the hill
To turn around in the hay field that was
On the other side. Somehow it didn't seem
So bad to drive over hay as it did corn.
But I can now say for sure that
Fresh young hay with a little covering
Of dew is just as slick as any ice.
The car slid to the bottom of the hill
And after spinning the tires once or
Twice I got out of the car, left the keys,
And began to walk back to the house
Where I hoped that there was at least
One beer left.