Popular Rhymes
“Sean, the king of cold delight,
A maker of dreams in scoops of white.”
“Her tongue is quick, her humor dry, She’ll challenge your ego, watch it die. A pain in the ass, the regulars say, Yet somehow they’re charmed, and can’t walk away.”
“From Mario’s jumps to Call of Duty’s fight,He’ll recount his victories deep into the night.
Between hits and sips, his stories flow, he’s the legend all patrons know”
“Jacquie strolls in with a confident air,
A Scorpio’s fire, a boldness rare.”
“Yet she loves this gig, the laughter, the cheers, The drunken harmonies, the clinking beers. “Sing it louder!” she calls with a knowing grin,
As the crowd belts out with passion within.”
“When the beers flow and the tales are told,Of daring runs in the bitter cold,He raises a toast, loud and clear,“To this badass life and another goddamn beer!” ”
Bartender Kristiana
In the Tar Water Tavern of White Salmon’s lore,
There dwells a bartender, gracious and more.
Kristiana, the soul who tends the bar,
With a spirit as vibrant as the evening star.
Behind the counter, she stands with grace,
A conductor of libations, a smile on her face.
Her hands, like artists, craft concoctions divine,
Mixing potions of spirits, a taste so sublime.
With a knowing glance and a welcoming air,
Kristiana listens to stories, each burden to bear.
She pours comfort and solace in every glass,
A healer of hearts, as the hours pass.
In the dim-lit tavern, her laughter chimes,
A melody that dances, transcending all times.
Her voice, like honey, soothes weary souls,
Offering respite, making each patron whole.
Through tales shared and whispered confessions,
Kristiana weaves connections, forging impressions.
Her empathy flows, a river ever true,
Uniting strangers, forming friendships anew.
In Tar Water’s embrace, she’s a guiding light,
Navigating conversations, in the realm of the night.
With wisdom and warmth, she tends to all needs,
A beacon of comfort, where the spirit succeeds.
So let us raise a glass, to Kristiana’s cheer,
A bartender extraordinaire, bringing joy near.
In the Tar Water Tavern, her essence prevails,
Creating a haven where camaraderie prevails.
Bartender Jenny
In White Salmon's heart, where the roads turn to dust,
Where the wind whispers secrets in trails of rust,
Stands a tavern of tales, both bitter and sweet,
The Tar Water Tavern, where legends meet.
Behind the bar, with a confident stance,
Jenny pours pints with a flick of her hands.
Her leather still smells of the trail she rides,
Her dirt bike parked where the shadows hide.
She’s a queen of the hills, a ruler of trails,
Chasing the wind where the courage prevails.
The Klickitat's roar is her favorite song,
And her bike hums along as she tears through the throng.
The TarBar’s alive when the sun starts to dip,
With stories that spill over whiskey and sips.
And Jenny, the keeper of laughter and lore,
Holds court with her smile and her gravel-voiced roar.
"Tell me," she says, as she polishes glass,
"Who outran the Gorge or the shadows it casts?
Who dared the basalt and lived to recall?
Step up, take your shot, and prove you’re not small."
Her eyes flash like sparks, her laugh’s a cascade,
Of waterfalls plunging through canyons she’s made.
And those who come seeking a drink and a tale,
Find Jenny, a legend, both fierce and frail.
For when the moon rises, and silence is steep,
Jenny rides out where the mountains don’t sleep.
The TarBar may echo with music and cheer,
But out on the trails, her heart beats clear.
She’s the spirit of Salmon, the pulse of the dirt,
A biker in boots, not a gown or a skirt.
So raise up your glass to the barkeep on wheels,
To Jenny, who shows us what freedom feels.