She sees the world Through yellowing lace The world hasn't seen Her since seventy-eight Except for the nephew Who used to look in To bring her Her chocolate And tonic and gin She lives in one room Of a mansion downtown With nothing but strip bars And strip malls around It used to be three miles To those big stone gates 'Til property taxes Just whittled it away She believes somehow That nothing has changed Even though Sherman Left Georgia in flames Cotton's still king And the south didn't fall As long as wisteria Climbs up the wall She won't read the paper And won't watch the news She thinks it's all lies Made up by New York Jews Her daddy said no matter What the laws say Down here we've always Done things our own way Some day That petrified house Will fall down Like everything It will return To the ground Whatever it Stood for will All be condensed To one paragraph On a plaque By the fence