Redneck Socialist Only girl, that was me. The youngest of three. Parent's penache. Spared from the lash. Books and ideals. Music with reels. Family tree.
Irish decree. Raised to be bold. No values, I've sold. I've hunted and fished. The dirt I have dished. I've lived in the wild. Survived a lost
child. Sought out a mate. My choices? Not great. Traveled around. Treasures, I've found. Brought forth a son. Life's circle begun. As a mother, alone.
Fingers worked to the bone. Waitress, cook, sawmill worker. Prone to never be a shirker. Delivered the mail. Nearly landed in jail. A Union leader. But not a
heart bleeder. Written some prose, poems, I suppose. Never afraid. Mistakes, I have made. Here's my life story. I've reached for the glory. Still
thinking and kicking. Love ripe for the picking. Life's not for the miser. This time, I'll be wiser.