Heart of the house

You are the original template.
You are the original exemplary.
How seen were you, actually?
How revered were you (honestly) at the time?

Why pleased with your low maintenance?
Where was your ally, your partner in feminine crime?

Oh, mother, who’s your buddy?
Oh, mother, who’s got your back?
The heart of the house,
The heart of the house.
All hail the goddess.

You were ‘good ‘ol’
You were “count on’er til four am”
You saw me run from the house
In the snow melodramatically.

Oh, mother, who’s your sister?
Oh, mother, who’s your friend?
The heart of the house.
The heart of the house.
All hail the goddess.

We left the men and we went for a walk in the gatineaus
And talked like women,
Like women to women would.
Womyn to womyn would “Where did you get that from?
Must’ve been your father, your dad.”

I got it from you, I got it from you.

Do you see yourself in my gypsy garage sale ways?
In my fits of laughter?
In my tinkerbell tendencies?
In my lack of color coordination?