[on Pearl Hall’s island, Mississippi River]

that sweet little piece of as

is land

that poor little patch shaved

off the banks that is

a weeping in the wind

wound sweet little

with a fish smell a little

must’ve had a name

pagan and profane by God

it’ll be mine

little Pearl little Island

claimed for the good of all from

that mean little length of falls

that filthy little rich

little stretch of mills, foundries

a seeping in the water prick

and balls pardon

just a little

with a hot burning smell

Saint Anthony’s death by God

they’ll call it Hall’s

and build her up a little

and kill her some

run through and stomp on

she’ll be the meanest

little island by the time we’re

little still, talking island time

can’t be bought yet

but we’ll squat on her

in the meantime

takes a little time

we’ll get her right still

make that little piece

of heaven cry but

mercy just a little bit

for the Mrs.’ sake

she wants a pretty

Mrs. Hall a little

pretty little

little island