They call her Onion Jane.
Onion Jane's her name.
Onion Jane loved her onions.
Yes, that is true.
She carried them 'round her neck like a necklace.

And Onion Jane, she was to blame
when they found him strangled tight.
His blood all drained by Onion Jane.
And she denied naught that it was a fright.

Onion Jane! Onion Jane!
You killed him in self-defense.
Onion Jane! Onion Jane!
We all saw him grope you.
It was his offense.

Onion Jane smashed his face with her onion crown.
She didn't stop until his brow came down.
His nose broken.
His arms akin to something from the old comics
when they drew the bodies badly
for they had not seen skeletons.
When they knew not color of our blood
when they thought we were just like them.

Onion Jane she was a good old lass.
That man deserved every whack.
Onion Jane was just a friendly lass.
And that is why we gave her a pass.

Onion Jane! Onion Jane!
He had it coming to him.
Onion Jane! Onion Jane!
This isn't a sad song.
You're still our friend.

Onion Jane is a good old friend,
but people leave her alone now.
They know not to heckle her
when she walks through our little town.

© 2016 S. W. Black (yam655)
to be released as "Mr. Beany's Bitty Band"

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
(Make derivatives. Make millions. Just credit me for my work.)