(Best accompanied by mandolin and fiddle. Allow accompanists to noodle a bit between verses. Lower volume into fourth verse. Suggested venue: porch. Suggested libations: unlabeled but consumed not more than a half hour's walk from the still that spawned it.)


Speakin' for the hammer, you're a nail
They won't pay no mind to your sob story,
blame game or tattle tale
If your heads above board when they come around,
you'll be smashed down without fail
Speakin' for the hammer, you're a nail

Speakin' for the preacher, you're a sheep
Whe'er a knife in the hand or crook on the shoulder,
all depends on the truth they keep
But when it comes time to muster the faithful,
Stay in line or it's you they'll reap
Speakin' for the preacher, you're a sheep

Speakin' for the statesman, you're a vote
When a seat is contested, an affable field,
you can count on them to dote
But under hot winds they'll sail to power,
and it's 'sorry you missed the boat'
Speakin' for the statesman, you're a vote

Speakin' for me, well, you're just you
A mess of contradictions and half truth fictions,
most of which it was you who grew
They give life it's texture, its three coat complexure,
Paints slate in a varied hue
Speakin' for me, well, just be you

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Miraman, in the year 951 AF.