| Grandma, my sleep is narrow
|
| Bid you bring me some strong drink
|
| Strain out the pulps and set them close outside
|
| For when my belly, for when my little belly speaks
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| Grandma, there’s air beneath my bed
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| And it whispers
|
| And it whispers when I rest
|
| Bid hem the skirts in salt and vinegar, vinegar
|
| And hover closely, oh hover closely under head
|
| Grandma, the water is rising
|
| My boundless hair has gotten green
|
| I’ll be your swimming forest island
|
| Bid you walk safely, safely over me
|
| Grandma, my hands have wandered
|
| And my legs, my little legs are getting weak
|
| Bid lend me your wispy frame
|
| And guard my powers, guard my precious powers in its cage
|
| Grandma, I’ve been unruly
|
| In my dreams and with my speech
|
| Drill little holes into my eyelids
|
| That I might see you, that I might see you when I sleep
|
| Grandma, the water is rising
|
| My boundless hair has gotten green
|
| I’ll be your swimming forest island
|
| Bid you walk safely, safely over me
|
| I’ll be your swimming forest island |