She was said to have burning lips,
The woman that worked at the corner store
She had bright green eyes and saucy hips
That made you shudder when you opened the door

Some say she used to look after babies
Until she had one, all still and blue
Then she quit and collected berries
From black to red, in every hue

And she gave them to us like they were a gift
Our cheeks and hands a sticky mess
For a second we had crossed her rift
But once we were clean, we were her stress

We never reached that woman we did admire
Because sometimes she was nothing but fire