I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. br I want a peek at the back br Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed grows. br A girl gets sick of a rose. br br I want to go in the back yard now br And maybe down the alley, br To where the charity children play. br I want a good time today. br br They do some wonderful things. br They have some wonderful fun. br My mother sneers, but I say it’s fine br How they don’t have to go in at quarter to nine. br My mother, she tells me that Johnnie Mae br Will grow up to be a bad woman. br That George’ll be taken to Jail soon or late br (On account of last winter he sold our back gate). br br But I say it’s fine. Honest, I do. br And I’d like to be a bad woman, too, br And wear the brave stockings of night-black lace br And strut down the streets with paint on my face.