Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, dear Sissy...
The surprise of Sissy Hankshaw
is that she did not grow up
a neurotic disaster.

If you were a small girl
in a low-income suburb

of Richmond, Virginia,
as Sissy was,

and your own daddy
sometimes makes jokes

about you being
"all thumbs,"

then you toughen up...
or you shatter.

...Happy birthday to you.
Oh yes!
Oh, did you make a wish?
No, and I'm afraid she ain't gonna
make much of a brain surgeon, neither.

Hey, she could
be a butcher.

She could retire in two years
on the overcharges alone.

She might make a hell
of a hitchhiker. Ha ha ha ha ha.

If she were a boy,
you mean.

She is,
if I may speak frankly,

of a medical oddity.

Well, the Lord made them things
big for a purpose.

Lord only knows
what that might be.

Doc, oh Doc...
if a young man
ever shows up here

with ugly fingers...
you know,
would you please...

Dear lady, please remember the words
of the painter Paul Gauguin

who said,
"The ugly may be beautiful...

but the pretty, never."
I don't suppose that means
very much to you.

I'm not stupid.