The Ballad of Jessie Roe

Jessie had a hushed abortion, 1972
And though she didn't share it, all of the townspeople knew
She crept on down an alley, date silently arranged
And walked out in the same plaid dress, though something else had changed
She talked a little louder and stood a little taller
Though it wasn't gone, the cloud above her head was smaller
Even when hit with icy glares she never could get frozen
When the sheriff carted her away she got some throws in
Jessie told the other women what she was locked up for
They slipped quarters and cigarettes beneath her cell-block door
Jessie met with weeping ladies in various hushed places
While other inmates caused a fuss in predetermined spaces
The women walked out lighter, not just metaphorically
But no jailers could determine just why that might be 
They smiled a little brighter and skipped with their feet swinging
And when the constable demanded silence, they kept singing
One woman grabbed a hunk of clay, and Jessie snagged a key
They melted down a silver ring, poured on the count of three
The women streamed out of the doors, even as bells protested
And Jessie traveled to a new town to get re-arrested