This demo sounds bad because my gear is far away, but a song is a song.

Eight score and eight years That’s how long they say this here Slave lady you see before you Has been breathing In those decades captive Her most famous master A baby by the name of Washington

The eyes that went blind They looked after him The hands that have cracked They would swaddle The teeth that have stayed as white As her skin is black as night Would smile at the child founding father

When Barnum bought her The gawkers would flock to her Though bondage was outlawed He saw his profits soar They roared with glee At the story of the cherry tree But like with everything People got bored

The teeth, yes, the teeth Were the problem Even these geese wouldn’t buy That a woman so hoary She looked after Georgie Would have these pristine pearly whites

She was three sheets In the wind from the whiskey When he took her teeth With a hammer The blood gushed from her gums The sawdust lapped it up One month after he attacked her She passed on

Come see the body The traveling autopsy Crossing the Delaware A caravan with her grave Wouldn’t you know it She wasn’t that old She was eighty If she was a day

The Wet Nurse of Vernon Is coming to A city near you Bring the family Wouldn’t you like A newfangled daguerreotype Of yourself with her And her wooden teeth