I Ain't Playing Pretty Polly

When I was a young boy, my papaw played me songs
He’d sing that Pretty Polly, and I’d listen all night long
Those sounds went straight into my soul, sitting on his cabin floor
But I ain’t playing Pretty Polly anymore

When Granny was a young girl, she had to hold her own
She told my little sister, don’t get with a man alone
Down in the Willow Garden, wasn’t some old metaphor
So I ain’t playing Willow Garden anymore

I ain’t playing Pretty Polly or Rosalie McFall
I ain’t playing Knoxville Girl, no, none of them at all
No more tales of women killed by drunken violent men
They don’t deserve their stories told, I won’t raise my voice again
I ain’t playing Pretty Polly anymore

Cause I know some stories, men like my Uncle Clyde
He spent seven decades at my Aunt Myrtle’s side
Kentucky teens who fell in love in 1934
They had to leave the mountains to find work in Baltimore

She tended their young family while he fought for them in the war
And she still holds his picture and looks for him at the door
Though she just turned 100 and he passed 12 years before
So I ain’t playing Pretty Polly anymore

I ain’t playing Pretty Polly or Rosalie McFall
I ain’t playing Knoxville Girl, no, none of them at all
No more tales of women killed by drunken violent men
They don’t deserve their stories told, I won’t raise my voice again
I ain’t playing Pretty Polly anymore