Oh, the stink of this cave

When the wet wood smokes!

Am I your slave

While you prance with folks

Outside to the beat of a drum?

The baby coughs

And the meat's gone bad,

But you won't come

Until you've had

Enough to make you numb.

I think I'll go

Where the river flows

And find a better man.

If he's unkind,

I could change my mind

And come back here again.

Copyright © 1988 Marian Jane Dickinson