Queen of Beto Junction

Queen of Beto Junction

Queen of Beto Junction
Copyright 1985 Tom Isern
On a run to Kansas City on the lonesome interstate,
My eyes are getting heavy and the hour's getting late.
Now I see that sign a-flashing "Beto Junction" on the hill--
I got time to drink come coffee and I reckon that I will.

I been thinking about a waitress but I won't tell her name,
I can't seem to convince her but I love her just the same.
She's a Venus, she's a siren, she's a driver's Lorelei--
She's the queen of Beto Junction and the truckers all know why.

She's the queen of Beto Junction and the truckers all know why,
Pour me up some coffee, cut a big old piece of pie.
She's a Venus, she's a siren, she's a driver's Lorelei--
She's the queen of Beto Junction and the truckers all know why.
Every driver on the road knows Beto biscuits are the best,
And Beto Junction chile will put hair upon your chest.
Order up a bowl of gravy and a steak that's chicken fried--
You would think you was in heaven but you know you haven't died.

But the Junction's big attraction isn't on the bill of fare--
She's my Beto Junction baby and I know she's waiting there.
She won't tell me her phone number, she won't tell me where she stays,
She won't tell me when she works the nights and when she works the days.

From Burlington, Emporia, Topeka, and Ottawa the highways come--
That spells "Beto" Junction, where my baby brightens up a long, hard run.