Petrified House

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