Ivy, follow me around, whatever
Wind me girdle-tight—like veins to sever
When I hack through with words and palette knive
See you come back so curly—greening alive
Laugh, make it tall, have to be so clever
Fashion—my great-nana in lace and chive
had Myrtle, Gladys-Ivy, farm and hive
Saw we have no endings, never say never
Ivy, follow me around
Gladys had my mother, eight kids, boys five
Jocelyn-Ivy raised to be “good”—wive
Got stuck on my dad, children—however
I want to breathe, not be chastened ever
Climb me to the sun, boot me to the low jive
I run to be free, Gypsy Lee forever
I-vee, follow me around