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Chort Through the Ages

Words and Music: © 2007 by Tom Smith

The Post Office has a secret that they try not to flout,
They've got an immortal on a mail delivery route.
He looks so ordinary, with a smile upon his face,
But on weekends he can be anywhere throughout known time and space.

Chort through the ages,
With his Roman Legion sword,
Chort through the ages,
Viking warrior, feudal lord,
If you want a Hottentot or a Mongol from the horde,
Never fear, 'cause Chort is here, near where the beer is poured.

His costumes are legendary, his parties more than that,
He puts on a persona the way some folks put on a hat,
He's a feisty little devil with a dozen coats and pants,
And no matter which one he has on, Chort knows how to dance.

Chort through the ages,
Polka, two-step, heel-toe,
Chort through the ages,
Samba, ballroom, or tango,
He does Russian kicks or a sabre dance like Baryshnikov on blow,
And he claims to be Charleston-challenged, but we've got the video.

Now, Chort is real romantic, there's so much love he has to give,
He told his wife, "Here, peel these potatoes", and she let him live.
His friends and family and everyone from Glen Echo to Newport
All know he's fly, and that is why their go-to guy is Chort.

Chort through the ages,
Singing with a pirate crew,
Chort through the ages,
Lots of gaming in there, too,
So the Postal Service tries to keep their secret, but it's true,
The right folks see that history's more fun when he comes through.
You're a king, old sport, and we're your court, so this one, Chort, 's for you.

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