She knows it.

She knows it from the tiny green sprouts poking holes in her feet,

From the whispers on the wind,

And the way the birds sang that sad old tune,

Just as they does every time the family grows.

Tomatoes, lettuce.

Now the pumkin seeds are hatching too.

So she's happy today,

Skipping her feet up and down,

Twirling her mushroom over her shoulder.

She's the Mushroom Girl,

She is.

Never gone by any other name.

She lives with the pines and spices,

The gourds and vegies,

And she's a survivor, ain't never gonna die.

Not on her watch.

Been a girl forever,

not a wrinkle or a worry,

The Mushroom Girl is everlasting.

But a storm's heading over the corner,

Smoking his pipe and pullin on his belt buckle.

Yes, a storms coming, and when it does,

Our little Mushroom Girl,

Well, at the very least,

Her sweet little pumkin seeds are gonna be the last thing on her mind.