Her beauty's
not in kindness Her winters long and mean The land of Tahquamenon is
something to be seen
Imagine yourself a warrior from a tribe from days
of old. Or maybe a Jesuit voyager trying to buy what can't be sold.
Her
virtues they are many Her sky falls soft and white But her beauty's not
in kindness on a stormy winter night.
She'll win you with her springtime She'll
give youth back to the old But beware all you her lovers when her colors
turn to gold.
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