Let us celebrate the life of our old friend JB. Guitar in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, the life of the whole party.
Now he came in on a cold winter's day. Danny and Mondo let him in.
And from that very day on you bet your life that the stories did begin.
He spent his whole life searching, seeking out the riches of the earth. Sharing adventures tales and stories from his death till his birth.
He called himself a prospector searching for the mother load. I asked him what sort of prospecting? He said minerals, gems, and gold.
He said Chris I have a claim in the foothills of old Quartzite. So we packed up all of our gear and headed south in the moonlight night.
But when we did arrive not a soul was in sight we share a beer and smoked a J. I said farewell he headed north on the trail I was off to California.
When I saw him next several months have gone by, monsoons replace the snow in the Flagstaff sky. He had a smile, a tan, I reached to shake his hand, the desert was in his eye.
So, let us celebrate the life of our old friend JB. Guitar in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, the life of the whole party.