The hollow string, mellow hole
Vibrates a trickle mile
I took the turn of my lover's choice
Singing all the while

Her flat tune, was missing you
Her hair a nasty knot
I captured what I knew
and hailed the bitter tune
Missing
On the trickled front

With out the bass
No jug in hand
I long for vibrant stings
Blistered hands
And bitter things
Long forgotten
Come the spring