Miss Brenda Lee Cater Will Not Patsy Cline For The Likes Of You

Custom, tradition, and the twang of steel guitars

Strongly suggest I should embrace my station

As the woman done wrong,

Weeping quietly in some dark corner

At the Come On Inn—better yet,

Wailing in a full, tear-stained voice.

Know this; I will not Patsy Cline for you,

Any man or moral of the story,

Nor will I indulge myself

In some country-crossover measure of revenge.

I will march into that bar,

And play that song for whoever on the jukebox,

Dancing without a trace of regret or malice

And I will leave that old roadhouse

In the same manner I will live

The rest of my days here on earth;

Head high, chin forward, shoulders straight

Alone or accompanied

As I—and I alone—see fit.

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9 thoughts on “Miss Brenda Lee Cater Will Not Patsy Cline For The Likes Of You

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