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Any Island in a Storm

Should we have started for our class in Zumbrota?
It would have been better had I gone to Eyota.
Hind sight or foresight – what the hell –
Let's paint in Zumbrota. Drive that Dart, Al.

That class broke up at nine thirty-nine
And we headed for the Olmsted County line.
Visibility was zero most of the way
And at least fifteen cars had gone far astray.

A white line in a snow storm is a hard thing to find,
But at last we made it to the Island called Pine.
At the Rainbow Restaurant on Pine Island's main street,
We stopped and warmed up and had something to eat.

It soon was apparent there was room in no Inn.
Our whole situation looked mighty grim.
Then said Al Page, "Let's flag down the cops—
Maybe they can scare up a couple of cots."

Lo and behold! A bright light in the night!
His prediction was right-on.
We were out of our plight.
Four places we had, not the best by far,
And my view from the cot was through iron bars.

This is the story of four souls in a storm
Who spend time in a jail cell, cozy and warm.
This word to poor travelers who stray off the trail,
"May fortune direct you to the Pine Island jail."

by Walter M. Lund, Eyota