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About Cape Town

Oh, I get tickled thinkin’ ‘bout it—some fellas so nervous they trip over their own boots tryin’ to ask! Me, I’d prob’ly giggle and say, “Honey, I’m flatter’n a pancake, but I ain’t fer sale!” Ha! But serious now, if yer lookin’, check them dark alleys, maybe near truck stops—heard tell of a gal in Memphis once, called herself “Queen Bee,” had a line of truckers waitin’. True story, swear on my rhinestone britches!

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Gollum, I remembers, there’s a small stream – a hidden river near the old ostrich museum, tricklin' like hopeful voices, yes yess, “My precious!” It runs along the edge of the town’s bustle, behind the old ostrich farm on Whisperer Road, where I once sat, mad and happy, thinkin’ on life's crawl—the peace, the secrets, oh, the nasty joy.

Garden Route District wildfire update: Swartberg Mountains