CHAPTER ONE
The Escape

Follow the trail of our twisted tale—
An Odyssey odd and offbeat—
And the band of fools for whom it unspools:
Everett, Delmar, and Pete.

Crossing the plains, shackled in chains—
Bound by conduct unlawful—
Turn on the charm to slip off the farm
And break away from the coffle.

Run for your life from toil and strife;
Avoid getting caught for your crime—
And hit the rails to escape the travails
Of a life lost to doing hard time.

CHAPTER TWO
The Prophecy

No time to rest, set off on your quest
By trekking the track of the train;
South of the rail, just off the trail,
Reckon the rolling terrain.

As you snoop around the loop,
In search of the second clue,
Keep in mind, the seer is blind,
So heed his point of view.

Off an alley, down in the valley,
On the tail of our merry band,
Inspect a nook as you overlook
The lake of a lakeless land.

CHAPTER THREE
The Betrayal

Leaving the track to hit the rack,
Our fugitives, three in number—
For placid dreams in lieu of schemes—
Retreat to tranquil slumber.

The hay is soft up in the loft—
A perfect, peaceful shelter;
An outlaw groks outside the box,
But inside the box elder.

So hop on over the birthroot and clover
To a hideout in the lee;
Reveal a receptacle, claim a collectible,
And R-U-N-N-O-F-T!

CHAPTER FOUR
The Revival

Back to the trail on the winding rail,
Over the wetlands roam;
Pursue the ensemble as they wamble
And slowly make their way home.

To reawaken the flock forsaken,
Head down the line to the junction,
And join the throng in evensong
At their faithful, fanatical function.

Make an emergence atop the convergence,
Soaring on the breeze—
Where zephyrs billow in lands of willow,
Whistling through the trees.

CHAPTER FIVE
The Crossroads

Get back on track and shlep your pack—
Whether satchel, bindle, or duffel—
And comb the scene for the brilliantine
To curtail a coiffure kerfuffle.

To find the camp, make like a tramp—
Beg and steal and borrow;
To cut it short, a northern port
Could spare you constant sorrow.

An emerald graphic directs forest traffic;
Enter the woods if you dare
To evade detection at the intersection—
And carefully tend to your hair.

CHAPTER SIX
The Gangster

Head on down to the edge of town—
Just hop in the auto-voiture;
Retain the tiller to drive 'round the killer—
An explosive and artful dodger!

A predilection for a different direction—
To poetically have your druthers—
Will help you score along the shore
Of a lake between two others.

High on a hill is a good place to chill
When you're up against the bulwark—
A classic scheme does always seem
To bring folks out of the woodwork!

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Road

Don't be late; depart through the gate
And get on the road—chop-chop!—
With a simple twist and a flick of the wrist,
Take dead aim straight for the top!

Escape like a thief to the land of the leaf;
Stand on guard for the tin—
A stakeout ‘fore the cellar door
And the treasure concealed within:

A celebration of reforestation—
The gift they left behind;
Except for the lack of commemorative plaque,
It might be a straightforward find!

CHAPTER EIGHT
The Toad

At the edge of the rio, our misfit trio
Stopped to survey the environs,
But good ol' Pete got swept off his feet—
Serenaded by sirens!

On the make at the edge of the lake,
Seduced with a spiritous sipper—
A quaff of hooch and a sensual smooch,
Right at the tip of the dipper!

Pete awoke as morning broke—
They turned him into a toad!
So ladle a cup to scoop him up,
And head on down the road.

CHAPTER NINE
The Warning

Cut to the chase: mark each place,
Then put together the plots,
For all is grist; you get the gist—
Now just connect the dots!

Aft of the cinema—sono minima—
The jailbirds take their seat—
A short furlough at the picture show,
With a word from ol' pal Pete!

Make a break across the lake,
Then search along the edge;
Make for a mill that fits the bill
To locate a lakeside ledge!

CHAPTER TEN
The Banquet

Music stokes the hearts of folks,
So let's all make some noise;
Cottonelia delivers Jordan Rivers
And the Soggy Bottom Boys!

Arm in arm, they broke off the farm,
Hitching a ride on the rail;
Eastward bound, outfoxing the hound
By tramping a treacherous trail—

The trio went wherever sent,
From Como to Loeb Lake;
Fishing one out at the Brook of Trout,
And claiming a Railfan stake;

They won the race to crack the Case
And followed The Road Not Taken,
To rise with the lark at Keller Park
And bring home twice the bacon!

Then, at the mill, in Canada Li'l,
They bridged the gap to prevail;
Now we're caught up for the final cup,
So—once more: hit the trail!

The pardon of the garrulous Guv'—
Your chance to win the day—
Waits at the small of an old-timey wall
Along the right-of-way.

EPILOGUE
The Ring

Head start dwindling, burning like kindling,
You're running out of time—
But rest assured, with pardon secured,
This could be the perfect crime!

It might just seem like Cooley's regime
Outhounded the foxes today,
To halt your pursuit of the marital loot—
So close, and yet so far away—

But sally forth, off to the north,
And follow the waterworks road
To get the drop on the old rolltop,
And strike the mother lode:

The requisite ring, an old pewter thing—
No money, jewels, or gold—
Is the fortune you'll find by flying blind,
Just as the prophet foretold;

The secret stand of a forested land
Conceals the True Story treasure—
A satchel sunk beneath a trunk,
With a can of pomade for good measure;

On needles and pins, between two twins,
For the humble band to espouse—
You'll be on the plot the moment you spot
A cow on the roof of a house.

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