I went to my psychiatrist to be psychoanalyzed
To find out why I killed the cat and blackened my husband’s eye.
He laid me on a downy couch to see what he could find,
And here’s what he dredged up, from my subconscious mind.
When I was one, my mummy hid my dolly in a trunk
And so it follows, naturally, that I am always drunk.
When I was two, I saw my father kiss the maid one day,
And that is why I suffer from kleptomania.
At three I had a feeling of ambivalence towards my brothers,
And so it follows, naturally, that I poisoned all my lovers.
But I am happy now I have learned the lessons this has taught:
Everything I do that’s wrong, is someone else’s fault!
Anna Russell, “Psychiatric Folk Song,” cited by Gary E. Gilley, This Little Church Stayed Home: A faithful church in deceptive times, pg.64
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