| they’ve come to find you odalisque
|
| as the light dies horribly
|
| on a fire escape you walk
|
| all rare and resolved to drop
|
| and when they find you odalisque
|
| they will rend you terribly
|
| stitch from stitch til all
|
| your linen and limbs will fall
|
| lazy lady had a baby girl
|
| and a sweet sound it made
|
| raised on pradies, peanut shells and dirt
|
| in the railroad culdesac
|
| and what do we with 10 baby shoes
|
| a kit bag full of marbles
|
| and a broken billiard cue? |
| what do we do?
|
| what do we do?
|
| fifteen stitches will mend those britches right
|
| and then rip them down again
|
| sapling switches will rend those rags alright
|
| what a sweet sound it makes
|
| and what do we do with 10 dirty jews
|
| a thirty-ought full of rock salt
|
| and a warm afternoon? |
| what do we do?
|
| what do we do?
|
| lay your belly under mine
|
| you’re naked under me, under me such a filthy dimming shine
|
| the way you kick and scream, kick and scream
|
| and what do we do with ten baby shoes
|
| a kit bag full of marbles
|
| and a broken billiard cue? |
| what do we do?
|
| what do we do?
|
| lazy lady had a baby girl, and a sweet sound it made |