Rocksalt and Nails

Now I lie on my bed and I see your sweet face;
The past I remember, time cannot erase.
The letter you wrote me, it was written in shame,
And I know that your conscience still echoes my name.

The nights are so long and sorrow runs deep,
And nothing is worse than a night without sleep.
I walk out alone and look at the sky,
Too empty to sing, too lonesome to cry.

If the ladies was blackbirds and the ladies was thrushes,
I'd lie there for hours in the chilly, cold marshes;
If the ladies was squirrels with their high bushy tails,
I'd load up my shotgun with rocksalt and nails.

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips

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