DESCRIPTION:
The Legend Of "The Maples"
Words and Music by Ray Sabatello

Just a few feet from the railroad tracks,
of the L. I. double R.,
Is a, pool shootin', shot suckin', bucket o suds bar.
It's known for tough low riders and the iron workin' man.
And it's been there, sitin' right by the tracks,
since Manorville began.

It's right around the corner from one, one, nine, four, nine.
And it's nestled 'neath the maples and the fifty foot pines.
The railroad station's long gone now,
but you can still sit and watch.
While the trains go rolling by,
listenin' to the music on the classic jukebox.

The legend of "The Maples" is like going back in time.
With a shot of "Jager" and a "Bucket of Rocks"
you'll go there feelin' fine.
The boys are crowded round the table,
playin' eight ball for fifty cents.
While the locals, the bikers, the farmers and the hikers, share a drink with no pretence.

The boys there still appreciate a guitar-playing man.
And if you play some Johnny Cash
they'll join in with the band.
The ladies like Alanis and the songs of love gone wrong.
And they'll always stuff your tip jar
if you sing their favorite song.

The legend of "The Maples"
means you'll always get your fill.
Some homemade chili and a pint of ale, always fits the bill.
The boys are crowded round the table,
playin' eight ball for fifty cents.
While the locals, the bikers, the farmers and the hikers, share a drink with no pretence.

One night while I was shooting pool,
the boys told me this tale.
About an old man drivin' his car at night,
with his tires on the rails.
Someone said: "He's crazy!"
and someone said: "He's drunk!"
But they all agreed to go get him before he hurt someone.

When they finally caught up to him they found
the old man was confused.
He suffered from dementia and he didn't have a clue.
So the gentlemen of The Maples
drove him back and called his wife.
As she cried she thanked everyone
for saving her husbands' life.

The legend of "The Maples",
means you just might find that still,
With a shot of kindness and a caring heart,
you can always spread goodwill.
Yeah, the boys are crowded round the table,
playin' eight ball for fifty cents.
While the locals, the bikers, the farmers and the hikers, share a drink with no pretence.

* This song is dedicated to Bob and Martie, (the current owners), Debbie, (the friendliest bartender you'll
ever meet), my guitar playing pal Brian, the pool shooting boys Marty, Dave, Joe, Gil, Mike, Big John, and
Chevy, (he was the first one to see the headlights) and all the friendly folks at The Maples Tavern in Manorville NY.
© 12/30/10 Ray Sabatello