I’s done told ya, Henry B., I’s fur stayin’ Melody Green,
So’s ya’s better not be thinkin’ a makin’ a scene.
‘Cause I’s had anough’a yur high-flyin’ words.
They’s worse’n the stuff from thim low-flyin’ birds.

So’s take up yurself along with yur dog,
‘Cause all ya’s bin sayin’ is same as this fog.
Tho’ bafore ya does go, I’s fur sayin’ agin,
That tho we’s both human, we ain’t nothin’ akin.

I’s done as much schoolin’ and readin’ as thee,
So how ya stands better, I plain doesn’t see,
Fur the size a yur chest and them musclely parts,
Sure ain’t the place where ma measurin’ starts.

So don’t come no more courtin’ with them droop-headed flow’rs,
‘Cause the day I’d be yes-in’, don’t have anough hours.
Fur whin a man thinks he can boss me ’round
I says he’s bin broodin’ with his head underground.

And so what if ya loves me–it ain’t anough
Fur ta swallow that “man is surperior” stuff.
And I doesn’t need no rescuin’ like some goofy dame,
Nor learnin’ how ta spell yur weird soundin’ last name.

Well, I’s up fur sayin’ more since ya’s sittin’ there,
That our heads is fur too different fur a wedded pair.
I’d expects ta be treated yur equal in kind;
Not like that blue ‘ound always ‘eelin’ behind.

And I doesn’t care if the whole world do say,
A girl’s gotta git married ta be considered OK.
And I gits real sore when I hears some story
How a rake weds a maiden and it’s all hunky-dory.

Seems ta me yur gender can live real fast
While a lady’s s’posed ta be guardin’ and preservin’ her past.
So if ya’s agreed ta that two-sided coin,
Our thinkin’s too fur between ta peaceably join.

And when ya talks surperior, I’s best explain,
If there’s a speck in brawn—there ain’t none in brain.
And in the creatin’, was dust better than bone?
Seems ta make little difference when we is grown.

Now I knows ma Bible and I knows the word cleave,
And I knows it was spoke and it sure warn’t to Eve.
So if ya says weddin’s was some lady’s plan,
I saggests ya goes now, while ya’s still can.

Well, I sees ya’s still sittin’ with yur chin in yur hand,
But I’s not fooled that ya’ll understand.
Fur ya’s growed too long with sich thoughts in yur head;
Ya’ll not now be changin’ just fur ta love me and wed.

I knows anough from seein’ ma friends,
That weddin’s is founded on too many pretends.
And soon they is wonderin’ just where was their head,
Whin the hitch they got, jist ain’t the same that they wed.

So I’s not fur yur bossin’ and rulin’ ma life,
Whin ya thinks the word slave is sorta meanin’ yur wife.
And if ya says tradition has writ such a law,
Well, thur’s some things in habit jist ain’t worth a straw.

And if ya thinks looks has some hope fur you,
Ya sees more in thim than I’ll ever do.
And our nice ‘pearance ain’t fur yur friends ta believe,
That’s ya’s more than ya is, cause what’s a hold a yur sleeve.

Fur if ya’s just hitched fur some frill at yur side,
It sets me ta wonderin’ if ya’s plum nothing but hide.
As fur thinkin’ we is best ta be seen and not heard?–
Marriage ain’t the place ta expect the last word.

Fur whin things need decidin’, I’ll be havin’ ma say,
Though I ain’t always expectin’ ta git ma own way.
But I’s better be heard and given some thought,
If ma hitch-up is ta work the way it ought.

And just so we’s clear on what I thinks
About all the doin’s at which society winks.
Ya’s better not believe it’ll change right rules,
‘Cause followin’ bad examples is same as followin’ fools.

So if I decides ta marry some guy,
He’ll do more thinkin’ with a blinkin’ eye.
And he’ll know that sayin’ one, don’t mean ‘im alone,
And that me, ‘is wife, ain’t just fur ta raise ‘im ‘is clone.

And ‘e’ll know that faults ain’t just mine;
That whin apologies is called fur, ‘e’ll be standin’ in line.
And ‘e’ll know that weddin’s ain’t fur ta tame some wife,
‘Cause such tamin’ and changin’s just the fuelin’ a strife.

Fur some folks get hitched with all kinds a schemes,
Ta change the other ta their unreal dreams.
And I’s never see’d one bein’ happy ta change,
Less ’cause they wanted–not frum some forced arrange.

Now I knows I’s not smart like some fancy folk,
But sometimes all their learnin’ is jist like smoke.
They doesn’t see clear and their thinkin’ goes numb,
Till their poor common sense is done overcome.

I’s bin taught common sense is a real good guide,
And it don’t sit them foreheads that’s all smooth and wide.
I remembers ’tis best in that Golden Rule,
The learnin’ a which, most wouldn’t a needed more school.

Now I knows folks can change and better become,
Though I hasn’t seen loads, I has seen some.
But ya doesn’t seem near ta bein’ that sort;
Whin ya’s always actin’ king ‘afore some kneelin’ court.

So ya’s better look elsewhere as sure as I speak,
‘Cause I ain’t uv a nature ta be all humble and meek.
But this I knows, that if I does love,
It won’t be the hitchin’ uv no hawk and no dove.

Fur I’s lived on farmin’ long anough ta know
Thit the best kinda plowin’ is frum two in a row.
And sure, I knowed quick that roses has thorn;
And I knows we gits better whin our edges is worn.

But I ain’t about ta git involved
With a guy, whin blamin’ others, thinks ‘is problems is solved.
Fur if there’s fur changin’ on some bloke’s part.
Well, lookin’ ta me, ain’t where ya start.

Now I bets ya’s mad, cause I’s told ya plain stuff,
And I could says lots more, but ya’s had anough.
Except fur this thing, and it ain’t said unkind,
But I ain’t fur pretendin’ I is dumb and blind.

Now I hopes ya’s not too awful sore with ma talkin’ sa frank;
I thinks fur some differences our raisin’ we can thank.
And though I doesn’t love ya, I still likes ya somewhat,
But as fur tail-waggin’ mut? No sir, I is not.

“Sides, ya only thinks ya loves me–ya’ll true find that out;
Fur wantin’ ain’t lovin’— same the lark ain’t a trout.
So furgive me fur speakin’ bad in ma offended state,
Here’s a plum as ya’s leavin’, and would ya’s mind closin’ the gate.