For as long as there have been songs, there have been songs about women. Next to God, the fairer sex has probably inspired more music than any other subject — maybe even more since the dawn of pop music.

But for all the songs about California girls, northern California girls, girls from the North Country, barroom girls, my girl, girls who just wanna have fun and honky-tonk women, precious few tunes have been penned specifically about our personal favorite kind of ladies: Vermont women.

Local songwriter Josh Schlossberg, who performs under the pseudonym Dark Green Folk, has attempted to rectify that egregious oversight with a new song called simply "Vermont Woman." DGF tends toward humorous tunes, and his latest is no exception, as he touches on just about every Vermont-y cliché there is, affectionately painting a portrait of a crass, crafty and crunchy Green Mountain woman who might seem familiar to anyone who's lived in Vermont for a while. (In fact, I think I may have dated her.)

Here's Schlossberg performing the song recently at Radio Bean, with full lyrics after the jump.

"Vermont Woman" by Dark Green Folk

She ain't no California girl,

Not livin' in some made-up world.

Knows how to gut and skin a deer,

Before she's through she'll shed a tear.

 

Her legs are strong because she hikes 

And runs and swims and skis and bikes.

She may not shave her underarms

But that can't do nobody harm.

 

Yeah, she gets drunk, she ain't no prude,

As long as all the beer's homebrewed.

Eats anything you can purchase

Inside a ten-mile radius.

 

She's a Vermont woman,

You won't see her comin',

She is really somethin',

She's a Vermont woman. 

 

She paints landscapes and plays banjo

And quotes from Edgar Allen Poe.

She'll watch cartoons and she stills looks

At porno mags and comic books.

 

She makes ceramic bowls and mugs,

Trades half of them for bags of nugs.

The farmers market kinda sucks

But she can charge them fifty bucks.

 

She don't go to church no more

And only kneels upon the floor

In yoga class, but called God's name

The other night before she came.

 

But she can't find her Vermont man,

She's looked everywhere she can,

From Burlington to Brattleboro,

From Bennington way up to Lowell.

 

Once she couldn't find no work

And thought she'd move down to New York.

Two weeks later she was back

In the Green Mountains in her shack.

 

Someday she'd like to buy some land

And start up her own tribe or clan,

Grow all her food and mix her shit

Into the soil to nourish it.

 

Until then, she'll just do her thing,

Not worryin' 'bout some goddamn ring.

She'd much rather die alone

Than waste time with some mainstream clone.