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My granny was only twelve years old
When she got her first tattoo
She was kind of a rebellious child
Back in nineteen twenty-two

She hid that thing for a little while
'Til her daddy finally got wise
He took that girl to the woodshed
With murder in both of his eyes

He asked that girl, "What did you do,
Don't you know that's gotta be a sin?"
"Now look what you've done to your body,
Has your mama seen your skin?"

Now my granny was a stubborn child
She didn't listen to a word he said
She didn't hide the one she had
But she got three more instead

Now as my granny got older, so did her skin
And her ink was droopy and sad
You'd think that woman would feel remorse
But I think she was almost glad

Now the art sunk down to her elbows
As it wobbled to and fro
The butterfly tats would take to flight
Everywhere Granny would go

Now another tat was a bloodshot eye
But now it was always winking
On the other arm was a battleship
But of course that thing was sinking

Well that's the story of my granny's art
She lived to be a hundred and two
The day she died it said "Rest in peace"
Not the gravestone, her last tattoo

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