Poor Deal

My father made a deal with the devil
he promised to give me away
if the devil made him rich and handsome
he thought it was a small price to pay
so the devil he come to get me
but my tears were way too salty
so he said
«cut off her hands
cut em clear off»
and ill be beck next turesday
oh my poor mother she cried buckets
and then she mopped the kitchen floor
she bagged my daddy to call it all off
she begged him
he said
«when you deal with the devil
the deal is done»
my mother said babe we’re leaving
pay your bag
bush don’t say a word
while your pa’s out late drinking
well make like winter birds
we can take a plane, we can take a train, we can take a car
far from here
we better make haste
there’s no time to waste
before the devil gets here
the first time i met him
he was wearing a blue suit
my mother recalled me
as i laced up my boot
he gave me a jar of butterflies
and oh how my heart fluttered by
it flew past the graves of
the lady hearts he’s slain
but oh how i can’t imagine
things so profane
i don’t need your knickknacks
i don’t need none of that
just me all the warmth
that your soul can afford
so he gave me a ring and he made me his thing
we can take a plane, we can take a train, we can take a car
far from here
we better make haste
there’s no time to waste
before the devil gets here
if God and the devil are the same
than who is your daddy now?