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Nina Bradlin
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Martha
MARTHA
Martha was his first love, perched up on his shoulder,
When the going got tough, her top feathers gone
Her life was rough, but she had a friendly shoulder
she could fly on.
Martha was his first love
Other birds live in cages, exposed to workers' rages,
Suspended above a boiling vat, some eat the skin
But some don't chew the fat,
But we all love that down home, down home
Deep fried pain, life ends in a bucket of limbs
Coated in down home Southern comfort
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And served by the Colonel himself
Martha was his first love
When they fed him Martha
they didn't mention her name
But he knew all the same
And his insides burned and his stomach churned
And on the at day he swore, he swore
His friends, he would eat no more
Martha was his first love
But as he grew older, he met a brown eyed girl
Who liked to rest her sweet head on his shoulder
But Martha was his first love
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