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She With the Million Names

from Failed Novels by Sam Steffen

/

lyrics

She With the Million Names (Easter Sunday) copyright sam steffen '14

You can stay in the stable, Cain, if you are able
And if you ain’t ready I’m sure that she’ll understand
She loves them all equal, the strong and the feeble
But you know to a new friend she prefers second-hands

Her heart it is golden and her fingers are porcelain
And her hair ravenblack flows as long as her veins
You can borrow a dollar and from the fence you can call her
By any one of her ten-thousand-twenty-two names

When the time comes to leave her, she will ask you to stay
And you’ll have to be honest, and just say you ain’t strong
Course I hope that you’re smarter than to put it that way
But whatever you tell her, you can’t make it too long

She’ll sit in the chapel and chew on her apple
That somebody gave her, she didn’t see who
If you ask where it came from she’ll ask “Why, do you want some?
For the life of me, sweetheart, I thought it was you.”

She lives in the country midst pastures of plenty
Where the wheat bravely staggers and the rye gently blows
When she needs a diversion she’ll make an excursion
To a place in the forest where nobody goes

When you come to a clearing she will tell you to halt
And you’ll have to be honest and say you’re really surprised
And while you make your excuses and say it wasn’t your fault
Best be sure that you’re speaking with tears in your eyes

Far from the centers she exits and enters
And stealthily glides midst the unnoticed crowds
You can follow her shadow, pretending she had no
Reason for drawing you underneath of her cloud

She’s cold as a crystal and she carries a pistol
That carries six bullets she fires at will
When she blows you her kisses, know that she never misses
And you’d already be dead if just lookin could kill

When she tells you her story and it runs your frame cold
Well, you’ll have to be honest and just say what you thought
Tho she’s only a child, she’s already too old
To remember that all that she knows she’s been taught
The district attorney made a hell of a journey
One midsummer’s Sunday at the end of july
Even pulled by a bloodhound there was nothing to be found
In the end he just told her he only came to say hi

Several months later in the onset of winter
When the lakewater surface had but frozen part way
A man was out huntin and he stumbled on something
That made him feel that he’d seen enough blood for one day

When they came to arrest her with their shotguns unsheathed
Crying “Keep your eyes careful, boys, she needs to be watched,”
She came out on the porch and said, “Will you poor bastards, please,
Say what you think you could take from me I ain’t already lost?”

You don’t have to sell it but that’s how they tell it
Hithers her homestead and yonders her grave
You could put up a statue, a figure of virtue
And Adonis-madonna for all the damn that she gave

Born to an orphan who was born to an orphan
In east Oklahoma where she lived till she died
Late Christmas evening, the year 1919
Died the twentyfirst of April 1935

credits

from Failed Novels, released November 3, 2014

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Sam Steffen Boise, Idaho

Sam Steffen is a Pennsylvania-bred, Boise-based singer-songwriter whose songs are the torch-wood for a new generation of folk music that has learned from the best stuff in the tradition and aims in spite of everything to keep the human spirit alive and kicking. A versatile musician and skilled finger-picker, Sam is at heart a story-teller, and a prolific one. ... more

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