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83 Goblin Song Mudcat Myers got a one-bottle bottle tree— empty RC on a knuckly branch like a slide about to jam on the highline wires. Inside Mudcat’s one-bulb house, pet rats named Racecar, Bess, and Mable scurry over the couch and table. Scrawled across the wall, dead numbers haunt a dead telephone. Jug of corn whiskey and the party’s on. He cups a French harp, makes it bawl with a night-greased, rusty-roof, black-shack tone, and he wails by his lonesome . . . Got a goblin in my pocket gobblin’ money all day long. Goblin in my pocket gobblin’ money all day long . . . The goblin’s taken everything. Unless you count the song. ...

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