The Asking Tree

Old lady bent like a question mark
With a shopping bag and a skin of bark
And around your neck I see a figurine like me
Dangling on a leather thong
I hang inverted all night long
Yeah
Tell me where I’m gonna die
Was it worth the baby’s cry?
That’s a tricky question, son
It’s been so long since you was one
Honey, please deliver me
From all that hangs upon the asking tree
Yeah
Beneath the tree the baby lay
The sky was black and the pram was gray
Its chestnut eyes roll round in fright
But what hung up there on the right
Ah no, no, this ain’t me
Hanging on the asking tree
I don’t know much but I sure can tell
Your porky soul is gonna fry in hell
And the grease will spit
And the fat will roll like a hamburger
That’s all your soul is worth
Processed beef clippings
Tear the skin right off of me
And hang it on the asking tree