It was a cliché, smokey country bar
When she crooned into my memory
As I heard a hint of her old accent
From a bygone Virginia residence
Faint and fading but not all gone
In the minstrel’s spell she cast in her song

Life put her on that stage for me
And I begged for her gaze to be on me
To end the long, cold, lonely nights
And as Etta said, at last, this night
She caught my unceasing, tense stare
And right then, she sang only to me