Bottle Queen

All alone on my street every day she walks,
Scroungin' bottles in the heat, all the while she talks
To a hidden confidant always close at hand,
Never to abandon her like her lover man.

Her hair is gray under a cap, her skin is tanned and dried.
They are lines around her eyes for every time she's cried
For the one who left her here without counterpart,
For the one who stranded her with a broken heart.

Meet my band, we drink like fish, bottles to the sky.
You could have them all my Queen, if you'd tell me why
Do you talk with no one there, and the words you speak,
Are they just a serenade for your achin' feet?

Hail, hail the Bottle Queen, honor her with glass.
Stack it proud outside your door, right next to the trash.
Wobblin' wheel shopping cart heralds her approach,
With every shimmy it proclaims "She's quite above reproach!"

Vocal, guitar, harmonica: Eric Delore
Bottle Queen ©1997 Eric Delore.
All rights reserved.