Goodtimes are in Dalton's Creek,
When Charlie is around.
A wandering eye for any lass,
who'd sport a short hemmed gown.

Now Peggy Bree was one so fair,
her hair a shimmering gold.
The bodice cut of every dress,
could heat-up any soul.

Monday nights at Mueller's Pub,
Mayor Charlie we would see.
He'd buy a draft for everyone
and flirt with our Miss Bree.

Charlie was a man of charm,
his looks were none too few.
Some have said, " his roving eye
would get him in a stew."

Our mayor shared his winsome ways
with each gal round about.
Bree's, blue eyes were turning green
and froth came out her mouth.

A bottle broke, the jagged edge,
just missed Charlie's throat.
No ones seen Prattle since,
he left without a note.

Should you go to Dalton's Creek,
take this tip from me,
" If it is a lass you seek,
stay clear of Peggy Bree."