Mistress Of The Salmon Salt Quicklime Girl

Intro: ( In the garden district, where the plants grow strong and tall Behind the bush there lurks a girl, who makes them strong and tall NC They just call her, Quicklime Girl, behind her back, Quicklime Girl Behind the bush, Quicklime Girl, she's the mistress of the salmon salt Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl In the fall when plants return, by harvest time, she knows the score Ripe and ready to the eye, but rotten somehow to the core NC And they call her, Quicklime Girl, behind her back, Quicklime Girl Behind the bush, Quicklime Girl, she's the mistress of the salmon salt Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl A harvest of life, or harvest of death, one body of life, one body of death And when you've gone and choked to death, with laughter and a little step I'll prepare the quicklime, friend, for your ripe and ready grave For your ripe and ready grave Solo: ( Solo: ( It's springtime now and cares subside, and the planting's almost done And fertile graves, it seems, exist, within a mile of that juke joint Where Coast Guard crews still take their leave, quite listless in the sun And the Quicklime Girl still plies her trade, reduction of the many from the one NC And they call her, Quicklime Girl, behind her back, Quicklime Girl Behind the bush, Quicklime Girl, well she's the mistress of the salmon salt Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl, Quicklime Girl A harvest of life, a harvest of death, resumes its course each day It comes as if by schedule, a harvest of limbs, of arms and of legs The toes that crawl, and the knees that jerk, and neck like swans that seem to turn As if inclined to grasp or pray Outro: (