Cisco Clifton’s Filling Station

Cisco Clifton had a filling station
About a mile and a half from town
Most cars passed unless they were out of gas
So Cisco was always around

Regular gas was all that he sold
Except tobacco, matches and oil
Other than that he fixed lots of flats
Keepin’ Cisco rough hands soiled

He’d wipe the gas and check the air
And a hundred times a day
He patiently gave directions
On how to get to the state highway

Usually he’d give ’em water
Or a tyre or two some air
And once a big black Cadillac
Spent seven dollars there

He’d give anybody anything they’d ask
And lend anything he had
His tools are tyres bumper jacks or wire
To the good ones or the bad

In wintertime there was a depot stove
And a table for the checker game
And every mornin’ at sunup
The same checker players came

So Cisco Clifton’s fillin’ station
Was always in the red
Personal loans were personally gone
But never a word was said

One mornin’ at eight, them checker players
Heard a big bulldozer roar like a freight
And Cisco said, I hope my kids stay fed
When they build that Interstate

He’d managed to pay for property
Where his little fillin’ station sat
And friends still came for checker game
So Cisco settled for that

He wouldn’t say so but Cisco knew
That the Interstate was too much to fight
But to keep his will and to pay his bills
He did odd jobs at night

He still opened up at sunrise
And the checker game went on
The cars flew past on high test gas
And the neighbors had sold out and gone

If a car ever did go by he was lost
And if they stopped they were treated the same
So at Cisco Clifton’s fillin’ station
There’s a howdy and a checker game