Sparrow

©1996 Andrew Calhoun, recorded on Phoenix Envy

She'd fry a mess o' bacon, cook a pot o' beans, 
It was her Grandma's recipe, way down in New Orleans. 

In a big midwestern city, girders groan and strain, 
She's living in a walk-up, at 43rd and Main. 

She's fatter than her mama, bigger than the blues, 
Louder than the comics in the Sunday news. 

Cigs in the breadbox, sugar on the shelf, 
If a man don't come to fill it, she'll fill it up herself. 

Sunday in the church pew, Sparrow on the wing, 
Sweat is pouring off of you, listen to her sing. 

Sunday in the church pew, Sparrow come and gone, 
Hard not to wonder how she'd look with nothing on. 

Where's the money come from, where's a dollar go? 
Children get a stern hand of guidance and the glow. 

When the tower crumbles, Daughter will be there, 
Sitting with the witness in the hospital chair. 

Send a card and flowers, stop a while and pray, 
You woulda known her better, but it wasn't in your way. 

She'd fry a mess o' bacon, cook a pot o' beans, 
It was her Grandma's recipe, way down in New Orleans.

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