An Existence Fee

I was walking by the county seat When a man walked out of a treetop suite How you be, my name is James McVie I own a vacant spot on the corner lot I do believe you're a sight to see In your speckled frock of purple and green Riding there on your painted mare With a tone so clear of a dying air Ah, yes, you see I'm not selling tea But a bygone proof of an existence fee(poems go here)