Big Mama Marble lounged across her velvet throne
sniffing bags of cocoa, throwing the dogs their bones
There in the black light, stage fright snagged my wrist
The gramophone cackled; I heard Big Mama hiss
| "Down, down.
| Gonna poke, gonna prod, gonna make you move
| to the voodoo groove."
The skeeters are a-humming and I haven't slept since Mardi Gras
I found a black magic bible crawling 'cross my hotel floor
They put a voodoo spell on you you cannot cure
I'm haunted by the image of Big Mama's mask forevermore
all rights reserved