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.