Let me get this straight (sort of), if I wanna be a folksong hero....

...I have to go out one morning, dressed in womans array (the transvestite thing) in search of my true love who has gone off for a soldier (don't ask). He/She will ask She/He/Me a few obscure riddles (don't tell) and whichever one of us is not pregnant will have to kill the other. Said victim can be knifed or thrown in the waters deep (don't inhale) but has to be buried in the cold, cold clay. Talk about your Larks in the morning!

Now this can take place in some obscure village or Kansas City, but in Kansas City you substitute shooting for drowning. It has to be in May or June or bleak December,but in either case I wind up in the Frankfurt jail and tonight I'm goin' on a spree, 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna be hanged. Thanks a lot you bunch of lowdown, dirty dogs (Hey! folksong rules, I wanted to call you high class yip yaps). You know, I think I'll just forego my dreams of being commemorated in folksong, and continue my hard, laborious, menial career of skinnin' gators down by the cypress grove.

Frank down by the green swamp sidey O.