OFF-THE-GRID GIRL Music, Eddie Arkin/Lyrics, Lorraine Feather He packed his bags in Bellingham, Took the water taxi to where I am. Wed lie by the brook; his yellow dog, Chasing bu*terflies while I wrote my blog. It warned the outside world to stay away, To stay away. He would never pa** the deep, dark winter here. He made that clear. Weve got these rats as big as cats, Slugs as long as your arm, A nasty nest of rattlesnakes Down by the onion farm. We brought them in to eat the rats, Which, as I stated, are big as cats. All they did was multiply and grow. Its a very scary place to be, Unless youre an off-the-grid girl Like me. Forget about the ferry route; It wont be dropping you here. Forget those touched-up listings On the walls of Windermere,
Or Coldwell Banker, or John L. Scott. One barren plot is all weve got. Extended stays are scarcely apropos, Though theres a cabin in the shadow of the penitentiary, Just right for an off-the-grid girl Like me. Its curtains for our aquifer. Salt pours from every tap. Not much can grow but nettles, And theyll sting you in a snap, But if youre coming anyhow, Get all your vaccinations now. Ill tell you something (Keep it on the down-low.): Theres a nasty pox for which theres no immunity, Unless youre an off-the-grid girl Like me. Ive kept his books beside the bed. Ive let him stay inside my head. Hed walk by the table where I sold The beets of purple, the plums of gold. I guessed a Harvard cap and gown. I knew he played his money down.