T'was drawing nigh to Christmas

And time was running slim

Everyone agreed let's meet

But no bids for where or when.

A race for space to share old friends

Amidst gatherings by the score

To lift a glass, get a hug,

And reflect on days of yore.

Note was made that those scattered yon'

Would most likely journey back

On that long special weekend--

More by Saturday, in fact.

So word went out, the 23rd

Will be the date or bust

But where are sounds in the old home town For mid-timers such as us?

Then got a call from a fella tall

Who said he'd found a place of plenty

Damon Troy bringing jammin' joy

And room enough for many.

Not a fancy joint, but friendly folks,

Where the northbound highway splits

The Triangle Club on Hwy 171

Just up the road a bit.

So I in my jeans and Maw gussied up

Will roll on out to see whats a' shakin'

Round eight-thirty or so on that evening aglow When the good times are there for the makin'.

Please if you can, squeeze some time in

And at least drop by a while

Seems the more we meet, the more complete Are the 30-year-long miles.

If you're in touch with friends from then Make sure you pass this on There's always room for one more smile Before the chance is gone.