CINNAMON BUN

She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
Under her bed she kept an elephant gun
Ever since ’04 she’d been on the run
From the Kimchi ’n’ Cookie Cartel

She got a new tattoo every other week
The last one was a doozie – on her left butt cheek
Her voice was husky (when she cared to speak)
And she had me in her spell

She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
No woman I knew showed me more damn fun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun

She swore like a sailor and could hold her gin
She’d steal your heart with her crooked grin
Some said she was well-versed in the ways of sin
And might end up in Hell

One day she vanished – never said goodbye
All she left was a hairbrush and her good glass eye
And a recipe for kimchi that’d make you cry
From its garlic and chile smell

She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
No woman I knew showed me more damn fun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun
She wore her hair in a cinnamon bun

[This is yet another of my attempts to write a country song. What country? I have no idea. But I’d love to set it to music... anyone want to give it a try?]