country music wax museum
i was at the house helping mee maw
she was inside plugged into hee haw
til she got paranoid and called the law
she ain’t been right since she lost pa

she says she sees him in her dreams
dressed for the stage and ready to sing
he looks like george jones in tight sequined jeans
every night he had a different outfit
or so it seemed

when alive he slung his banjo low and honery
he didn’t play music to make some money
he did what he did like a parrot in a cage
and died the spittin image of the ones
that were made

she said she saw him from the hall
he’d be tuning a fiddle or rolling yarn into balls
a waxy visage from the dead
and after fifty years of mending his suits
she couldn’t cut the thread
and this is how she would see him
surrounded by his peers at a country music wax museum
and all those pale ghostly dollops
better keep their hands right off
she can still raise a little hell
through her crupey
cough

Written by R. Hawkins. Performed by Jackson Pollock Microphone.