It’s a girls’ night out in the city of seven hills,
Where echoes of history weave through the stills.
Lynchburg, old yet alive, with its cobblestone pride,
Tonight, we stroll downtown, let the city be our guide.

Under gaslamp glows, our laughter takes flight,
Walking past the James, sparkling in the moonlight.
Did you know Jefferson called this place divine?
And tonight, it’s ours, where the past aligns.

On Main Street, the whispers of old tobacco trade,
Mix with music from bars where memories are made.
Cheers in the air, from rooftop bars we view,
The skyline that once saw trains roll through.

We step through history, heels tapping the ground,
From Monument Terrace to the mill’s bustling sound.
The Craddock Terry whispers of shoes once made,
Now a boutique hotel where elegance pervades.

In this city of stories, we carve out our own,
Sharing secrets, dreams, in a world we’ve known.
Lynchburg, you cradle our night in your embrace,
A meeting of old and new, a timeless space.

So here’s to the girls, the city, the night,
Dancing with history till morning’s light.