New Spanish moss was my bedThe ships’ horns were my alarm clockIn the early morningAlong the Mississippi River’s edgeI was swimming left to rightLeft to rightThe mud was brownThe sky was grayGoing up the willow treesDown the willow treesHiding in the rocksThat mourning dove egg was deliciousIt was cool and dampWhen I slithered to the top of the levee(I was in a frightening mood)It happenedI didn’t see it comingThe wheel