third base mavis

Third Base Mavis cooked the school lunch in the old High School. She came from out east, maybe Ohio or Indiana and she knew her slap-dash beef and macaroni and tomato soup from a can. 3B Mavis pioneered the art of of white flour buns and honey-butter. She'd barter milk prices and pick and can the corn for her tamale pie.
She was called Third Base Mavis or 3B for short on account of the high school boys who frequented her shingled shack in Hillcrest. Ole 3B kept Dingel's Corn Whiskey on hand. After a few, she was willin' to let the boys get to third. Try a home run and you'd meet 3B's nickel plated 38.

Scott Pippert wrote a song for Mavis or a poem, if that'd be best for your recall:

Old Third Base Mavis was a son of a gun,
Made her livin' off a honey bun.
A three cent milk and a can of pears,
tattoos, hairnets and fightin' scars.

Ol' Mavis made goulash, beef with tomato,
And a rough piece of work she called Deadwood potato.
She drank beer at the Badlands,
whiskey down in Scenic,
and gasoline in Pine Ridge,
and dreamed of living in Phoenix.

She never made it there,
her money was not willin'.
She stayed in Wall and screwed em' all.
'cause that was most fulfillin'.

As the years passed by and Mavis aged.
a legend began to form.
Of all the local gentlemen,
Mavis had performed.

There was Scott and Lee, there was Bill and Shorty Schuler, Rusty, Rocky and Casey and the entire crew of the custom harvesting team of Skip and (Kansas Boy) Buehler. There was Jim Doyle, his dad and the Richters. Stan and Stuart Mettler, who, as father and son stayed true to their fetish for "lunch-lady" toes.

3B Mavis is gone now. Dead and buried. We buried her up on Hell's Half Acre which gets smaller every year due to natural erosion. Eventually, Mavis will re-enter this world. Mostly bones but maybe part carcass. Human jerky.

PS: Word is the 38 is missing. By this post, I'm asking who has it?