Lletres: Tori Amos. Other. Frog On My Toe.

Papa, I know there's a frog on my toe,
Maybe I'll call him Jethro.
Maybe I'll grow up to be wise, as good as he.
And maybe I'll come back after you're long gone.

And Papa, I'm sure the worms have eaten you now,
And Jethro's been on some Frenchy's plate long ago.
Now I'm pretty sure that I listen to your every word,
'Cause I still hear you telling me still,


Slap them boys when they're naughty.
Make'em crawl. Make you haughty.
Make you strong, little girl.
You paint them toes the reddest color.
And you know one day, you're gonna be bigger than a flea...
You're gonna be bigger than that old poison ivy tree...


Now I'm pretty sure that I think you'd come and visit,
An' talk sometimes, kinda like Gidget and,
A funny little chance like an Indian Brave.
You said, "We all grew fat when the white man came."
But one day, girl, you're gonna learn to make'em crawl,
Make'em grow tall, but have the grace to be a lady with disgrace,
And you fry them taters and you make them with lady's hands,
And know you're my pappy?s baby...