One bright summer’s morning, in the long year of ’01
I couldn’t face my workplace, so I chased the northern sun
Where the highway 89 divides the state in twain
Somewhere in the valley of Samuel D. Champlain

My Loyale started smoking, just as I turned for home
The corner store was open, so I asked to use the phone
She said ‘you missed the bus, and we both know there’s no train’
‘Why don’t you come and stay with us tonight by Lake Champlain’

She took me to her father’s house on the ferry landing road
Walked me up the driveway in a dress her mother sewed
She said she was a singer and was trying to make a name
Out beyond the valley of Samuel D. Champlain

We sat out on the back porch and sang a midnight song
I joined in on the chorus like I’d known it all along
She was leaving in the morning, how could I refrain
From going on a tour with the Lady of Champlain

We went to California, no money for our beds
Crossed the northern border, Stan Rogers in our heads
Rode the Anacortes ferry through the Oceania rain
Ten thousand miles and back again with the lady of Champlain

Late night in the guest house she packed up in a rush
I don’t know if I said too little or if I said too much
You never know how good things were ’til they end and then it’s plain
I never could stay mad at her, the Lady of Champlain