I was wandering through an old hill country town, just rambling around the streets

And the whole place was covered from its cobbles to its gutters in a litany of rustic antiques

I stumbled upon this out of the way place, a shack with no signage which I thought was strange

Nevertheless I strode inside and took a seat

There was a long wooden bar in a low ceiling room, It was dark as a dungeon and cold as a tomb

A kerosene lamp lit a rickety table where a couple old cowboys sat at odd crooked angles

The bartender stood and he smoked in the corner

He seemed in no hurry to come take my order

Until he furrowed his brow and flicked a loose ash and he started my way with a question to ask

Where are you from? I said, how about a beer

Boy are you deaf? No sir I can hear

I'm from Fort Worth, only here for the weekend

A quick getaway full of shopping and drinking

You're from the city? I said yes I suppose

Well, you know, there's a winery that's just up the road

It's got bold cabernet and fine leather chairs

And I think you'd fit in a bit better in there

He stared deep in my eyes as he gestured behind me

To the back of the bar where a hand-painted sign hung

Crimson block letters on a backdrop of white

It read "Locals Only" in the kerosene light

A lump in my throat, I sunk in my chair

Those crooked old cowboys had started to stare

I searched for my words, but nothing much came

Til' finally I croaked, that's an interesting name

He laughed, it ain't a name it's this bar's only rule

All you tourists are arrogant fools

Who think that this town and the people that live here

Are monkeys that dance for your money and pleasure

He lectured a while on the pure devastation

Of ranches and farms owned for ten generations

Chopped up and sold to build Airbnbs

For the bachelorettes and the fellas like me

When the bluebonnets bloom, all the people from Austin

Turn their eyes to the west and they flock by the thousands

They come for our rivers and our hills high and green

They trample around and then high tail it east,

Not knowing the history, the ground that they tread

Not caring at all for the way things have been

So forgive me if just cause you wander in here

I don't hop to attention to pour you a beer

He ended his rant and he finished his cig

And those cowboys stood up from the chairs they were in

I knew in that instant that I'd outstayed my welcome

So without a word uttered, I made for the exit

And I went to that place that the barkeep had mentioned

The chairs were quite comfy and the wine was delicious

But on the tip of my tongue was the sourest taste

Left in my mouth by that low ceiling place

And many times through the years I've been back to that town

I've looked and I've searched and I've rambled around

For that dingy old dive, but I can't seem to find it

Maybe it was a dream or more likely a nightmare

The barman a ghost of the hill country past

His great lamentation a last dying gasp

And that pair of old cowboys a manifestation

Of the way the world was and how much it's been changing