Mary, THE SUBMISSING YEARS
(inspired by John Prine’s "Jesus, The Missing Years")
It was hot, 100 in the shade
When Mary got a note from this guy named Gabe
She don’t remember getting pregnant but, she did
And by all accounts she churned out one heckuva kid
But walking home from church one day, he just up and disappeared
Maybe he went to find Santa or maybe he went to get beer
He was just twelve years old, this miracle she carried
It was all so confusing, she wasn’t even married
So she fled south to Elizabeth, her eldest cousin
Who despite her old age, also had one in the oven
And in a duplex with a busted cement gnome
Chattanooga was as good as home
That’s in Tennessee
There’s Barbie lovers and firecrackers, train trackers, Coca Cola makers, insurance takers
And a lotta hot preachers
Sarah bought some brownies
Shawna bought Rose’
They almost booked a beach trip
But they didn’t have a way
They baked biscuits at daylight
For whoever might stop by
But they didn’t get a lotta callers at
The corner of Do or Die
Sweet tea was flowin’ and so were the tears
As Mary lived out her submissing years
Not really free and sure not a boss
Just mostly lonely and mostly lost
Wherever Jesus was and whatever God had in mind
She hoped her boy was out there somewhere having a good time
Cause chance just seems to fall out of sky
And that’s if you’re lucky and the weather was dry
Lots of letters from Mama came, full of worry and I told ya’s
So she curled up on the couch and watched Steel Magnolias
She baked a cake and baked a ham
She opened an account on Instagram
Cause that’s what ya did back then
Mary was a good ol gal
She didn’t deserve this shit
She wrote her lines out one at a time
And she didn’t complain one bit
She saw Sinead cover Loretta on Saturday Night Live
Like every good virgin does
But she spent most her time just sittin’ round wondering
Where in the hell Jesus was
Sarah bought the brownies
Shawna bought Rose’
They almost booked a beach trip
But they didn’t have a way
They baked biscuits at daylight
For whoever might stop by
But they didn’t get a lotta callers at
The corner of Do or Die
Time went by like molasses
So she signed up for some classes
But it seemed there were no real answers
Just a lotta fast food and raunchy dancers
And things everywhere were the worst kind of wild
She knew in her gut they were coming for her child
With bumpers and thumpers and guns a‘blazing
Ol Jesus was in for some gnarly hazing
Frat boy hazing that is, the worst kind
She thought oh my God, what have I done
He’s a bottle of milk and all the love inside him is mine
They’re gonna kill my baby, they don’t like him none
So she cut off all her hair, she thought she might could get there
If they would just mistake her for a man
It looked kinda mod, it probably wouldn’t please God
But she had to have some kind of plan
Turns out there are no fish at the end of a lightning rod
And the worst thing you can grow up to be is the son of God
I’m not sure there’s anything anybody can do
When people will kill ya even when there’s nothing wrong with you
So come gather round me friends, all my contemporary peers
And I tell you all the story of Mary,
The submissing years