I watched them dimiss her on the nightly news
Their crocodile tears for a football coach
outshone the death of a woman who sang the blues
I fell for her when I was quite young
a voice that made me listen to
the words that flowed off of her golden tongue
A female figure on a dim lit stage
and she lived it even into her old age
She'd taken her last breath
And the world almost forgot
But we'll remember you in death,
your name written in St. Peter's tome
Rest in peace Etta
A chorus of angels has taken you home.