Litkicks Message Board Archive

cops all have wooden legs the jails are made of tin

Posted to Poetry and Politics

The Big Rock Candy Mountain
the jails are made of tin.
You can slip right out again,
As soon as they put you in.
There ain't no short-handled shovels,
No axes, saws nor picks,
I'm bound to stay
Where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk
That invented work

going to crash before you accuse me of latching on to you