You Don't Know Jack

Through windows closed and shuttered you can see where fun was had,
Where tales were served by a young barkeep, a story-tellin' lad.
The barmaids teased and plied their trade twixt the tables, dark and light,
And the patrons there gave not a thought to the lurking veil of night.
But night did come, as it always must, and the lamps went dark at last,
And the barmaids left, and the patrons, too, and the barkeep's grief was vast.

It's said if you pass on the lonely road where the tavern stands abandoned,
You can still hear, if you strain your ear, the barkeep's pen a'scratchin'.
Some call him a phantom, some call him a fool, but call him what you will,
He'll never give up on the stories he told 'til they're back, his tavern to fill.
So give him a thought on your busy road, and stop for a while as you pass,
'Cause you just never know when the stories will flow, and the thrill will return at last!