Even for his dying mother
James Joyce refused to kneel
He’d rather pull his eyes out
Or tie himself to a burning wheel.

You can tie me to the levee
Should the winds begin to blow
I’ve sold all my possessions
And told you everything I know.

Yes, it’s true, oh honey, yes, it’s true.
I don’t kneel for anyone,
Not for anyone but you.

First time he went to Paris
Joyce was arrogant and proud,
He had no one he could sing to
Or to find him in a crowd.

I cried out once in London,
Hardly anybody heard.
Your sister cut my heart out
And she fed it to a bird

Yes, it’s true, oh honey, yes, it’s true.
I don’t feed my heart to anyone,
Not to anyone but you.

When he climbed down from Martello,
Joyce went looking for a room.
He sailed off with brave Ulysses
And he slept with Molly Bloom.

I woke up and remembered
How that town was so bereft
The ground began to tremble
And soon everybody left.

Yes, it’s true, oh honey, yes, it’s true.
I can’t live for anyone,
Not for anyone but you.