Editing Mistress of the Salmon Salt (Quicklime Girl) (section)

== Lyrics ==
<poem style="border: 1px solid #8eb6d4; background-color: #0b0b14; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 3em; border-radius: 10px; width: fit-content">
''Ah, yeah''

In the garden district
Where the plants grow strong and tall
Behind the bush, there lurks a girl
Who makes them strong and tall

The villagers call her
Quicklime girl, behind her back
Quicklime girl, behind the bush
Quicklime girl, she's the mistress of the salmon salt
Quicklime girl
Quicklime girl
Quicklime girl, ooh

In the fall when plants return
By harvest time, she knows the score
Ripe and ready to the eye
Yet rotten somehow to the core

And they call her
Quicklime girl, behind her back
Quicklime girl, behind the bush
Quicklime girl, well, she's the mistress of the salmon salt
Quicklime girl
Quicklime girl
Quicklime girl, ooh

A harvest of life, a harvest of death
One body of life, one body of death
And when you've gone and choked to death
With laughter and a little step
I'll prepare the quicklime, friend
For your ripe and ready grave
For your ripe and ready grave

It's springtime now, and cares subside
And the planning's almost done
And fertile graves it seems exist
Within a mile of that juke joint

Where Coast Guard crews still take their leave
Quite listless in the sun
And the quicklime girl still plies her trade
Reduction of the many from the one

And they call her
Quicklime girl, behind her back
Quicklime girl, behind the bush
Quicklime girl, well, she's the mistress of the salmon salt
Quicklime girl
Quicklime girl, they call her
Quicklime girl, ooh

A harvest of life, a harvest of death
Resumes its course each day
It comes as if by schedule
A harvest of limbs, of arms and of legs
The toes that crawl, the knees that jerk
The necks like swans that seem to turn
As if inclined to gasp or pray</poem>