My granny was only twelve years old When she got her first tattoo She was kind of a rebellious child Back in nineteen twenty-two
She hid that thing for a little while 'Til her daddy finally got wise He took that girl to the woodshed With ****** in both of his eyes
He asked that girl, "What did you do, Don't you know that's gotta be a sin?" "Now look what you've done to your body, Has your mama seen your skin?"
Now my granny was a stubborn child She didn't listen to a word he said She didn't hide the one she had But she got three more instead
Now as my granny got older, so did her skin And her ink was droopy and sad You'd think that woman would feel remorse But I think she was almost glad
Now the art sunk down to her elbows As it wobbled to and fro The butterfly tats would take to flight Everywhere Granny would go
Now another tat was a bloodshot eye But now it was always winking On the other arm was a battleship But of course that thing was sinking
Well that's the story of my granny's art She lived to be a hundred and two The day she died it said "Rest in peace" Not the gravestone, her last tattoo