"All my bones, they are gone, gone, gone.
Take my bones, I don't need none.
Cold, cold cupboard, lord, nothing to chew on!
Suck all day on a cherry stone.
Dig a little hole not three inches round-
Spit your pit in the hole in the ground.
Weep upon the spot for the starving of me!
Till up grows a fine young cherry tree.
When the bow breaks, what'll you make for me?
A little willow cabin to rest on your knee.
What'll I do with a trinket such as this?
Think of your woman, who's gone to the west.
But I'm starving and freezing in my measly old bed!
Then I'll crawl across the salt flats, to stroke your sweet head.
Come across the desert with no shoes on!
I love you truly,
or I love no-one."

-Joanna Newsom