I can’t walk by a bookstore without peeking in, and I usually check the local history shelf before stepping out.

That’s how I recently bought a copy of “Omak Me Yours Tonight, or Ilwaco Million Miles for one of Your Smiles,” by Willard Espy, the master punster of place names.

Thus inspired, and with a nod to Mr. Espy, I submit:

“Imhoff to Where the Axton is”

Chuck came from California,
A basket maker by trade,
But he was guilty of Wickersham,
His Mission a charade.

He tried to Pattle out of town,
But soon a Squalicum,
He Roeder as best he could,
But Hale and rain did drum.

At last he Goshen ashore,
Hovander by the Beach,
He came upon a Clearbrook,
With Silver sparkles well in reach.

He said Eldridge for precious metal,
I’ll Baker down to ore,
I’ll Carter it to town,
Slater, I’ll get some more.

Haynie a clever fellow?
He Cain do anything,
He’s a Blaine Goodwin,
Like old man Tut, the king.

The city folks were Poe,
Yet they saw a Sunnyside,
Their Vista would be brighter,
With Chuck as their Guide.
I’ll Kwina go far,
They said aloud with glee,
Telegraph the world,
We’re a Happy Valley.

Will you share with us?
They asked Chuck hopefully,
No way, he said, Sefrit I care,
And don’t you Badger me.

Then a Nugent came forward,
In a Tuxedo a bit frilly,
Meet my Twin Sisters, he said,
Miss Laurel and Miss Lilly.

Terrell me which one,
You would like to wed.
Arroyo not interested,
Or like Miss Lottie instead?

Chuck said, I take the Grandview,
Puget what you wish for,
There’s Sumas to consider,
Lummi think some more.

Then he went on a Bender,
Seeking Sweet Harmony,
But Yew know the truth,
His life was Massey.

Can he change his ways?
No, he wasn’t Cagey,
So Alm he could do,
Was to Tromp off, eyes Dewey.

Agate sad news,
He led a Bylsma life,
Hoff by himself,
With no friends and no wife.

Eliza with a Bayview
A man that time forgot,
Buried beneath an elm,
It’s true that Chuckanut.