[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Not a poem.

Of course, I'm not musical, so eventually putting this to music...could be tricky. Heh.

Rusty Nail

Rusty nail cut my foot
Gonna get an infection
Rusty nail cut my foot
An impromptu dissection

‘Cause you never called me
I kicked my foot through a wall
And a rusty nail caught me
Cut me up like a barroom brawl

Sitting in the Waiting Room of Life
Doesn’t get much better than this
Crying baby, maybe it’s colic
Or an innate displeasure with
Life doesn’t get much better than this

‘Cause you never called me
I was flabbergasted
I’d raised my heart up high for you
Where it billowed upon the masthead

The doctor who inspects my foot
Says I did quite a number
Asked me what caused the damage
I said, You did, asshole, when I gave you my number

And you never called me
So I kicked my foot through a wall and a

Rusty nail cut my foot
Gonna get an infection
Rusty nail cut my foot
An impromptu vivisection

(Of. My. Heart.)

And he said:

We’re sitting here in the Waiting Room of Life
Doesn’t get much better than this
Crying baby, maybe it’s colic
Or an innate displeasure with
Life doesn’t get much better than this

So I never called you
‘Cause, really, what’s the point?