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EMILY

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THE SPIRES OF THE HIGHEST PEAKS

ARE A LONELY PLACE TO DWELL

BUT BETTER THEIR IN MY MIND

THAN SOME OF THE DEEPER PITS OF HELL

SO HIGH I CLIMB GROPING

FOR ANY CREVICE TO GET MY GRIP

CUZ IFN I FALL ITS TO HELL WITH ME

IN THAT RAVENOUS BOILIN\’ PIT

WHILST I’M ON THE SUBJECT

OF THINGS AGOIN TO HELL

IT REMINDS ME OF A STORY

AN OLD MAN FORBID ME TO TELL

OF A MULE NAMED EMILY

LADDEN WITH HER MASTERS TRUST

AND THE CLIFF SHE FELL OVER

MUCH TO HIS DISGUST

JUST PAST THE CROOK IN THE TRAIL

AND NOT MUCH FURTHER TO GO

ACROSS THE WHITESIDES BRIDGE

TO A SLIDE STILL COVERED IN SNOW

EMILY LOST HER FOOTING THERE

AND AGAINST ALL CAL’S BEST WISHES

ASS OVER TEAKETTLE

DOWN THAT MOUNTAIN

SHE FELL WITH HER STOVE AND DISHES

ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO FEET

DOWN THAT MOUNTAIN SLIDE

THERE LAY A MULE NAMED EMILY

WITH A COOKSTOVE ON HER SIDE

THE ONLIEST TIME I HEARD HIM CUSS

THRU ALL THE TIMES WE MIXED

HE LOOKED ME SQUARE IN THE EYE

AND SAID “ROB I’M IN ONE HELL’VA FIX

THE LITTLE WOMANS PRIDE AND JOY

THE APPLE OF HER EYE

NOW LAYS DEEP, IN A GORGE COVERED WITH SNOW

AND A COOKSTOVE ON HER SIDE

WITH THREE HUNDERT FEET OF MANILLA ROPE

A BREECHING AND A RUCKSACK

WE FASHIONED A PULLEY TO A COUPLE OF POLES

AND YARDED OLE EMILY BACK

THE STOVE NOW SCRATCHED AND MISSING A GRATE

AND THE BISCUIT OVEN BENT

THE LITTLE WOMANS PRIDE AND JOY

MUST HAVE BEEN HEAVEN SENT

EMILY WAS ALL THEY HAD

AS GOOD AS MULES GO

AND I’LL NEVER FORGET

THE DREADFUL DAY
CAL LOST HIS ASS IN THE SNOW

 

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