All my bones, they are gone, gone, gone
Take my bones, I don't need none
Cold, cold cupboard, Lord, nothing to chew on!
Suck all day on a cherry stone
Dig a little hole, not three inches round
Spit your pit in the hole in the ground
Weep upon the spot for the straving of me!
Till up grow a fine young cherry tree
Well when the boughs break, what'll you make for me?
A little willow cabin to rest on your knee
What'll I do with a trinket such as this?
Think of your woman, who's gone to the West
But I'm starving and frezing in my measly old bed!
Then I'll crawl across the salt-flats to stroke your sweet head
Come across the desert with no shoes on!
I love you truly, or i love no-one
-Joanna Newsom
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