Molly’s Song
Molly, can’t I mow your lawn
Molly, can’t I please
Molly, can’t I plough your earth
While it’s wet with dew and the grass is green
Molly, the time is both right and wrong
To plant these wicked seeds, whose sprouts are long
On your fallow hills I scatter them under the summer sun and breeze
And new life will spring from their hearts like a song
and possibly a disease