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Fancylad, fancylad,
How did you blow your inheritance, fancylad?
Sing me your parents' embarrassment, fancylad
Sing to me your pink-flowering thorn
You never asked to be born

Your woes, they shine like tiny gemstones
What an exquisite collection, such an exquisite collection
Shall I tell you whether they're real or not
Before I cut them to perfection?
The better to bedeck you
What an exquisite collection

Fancylad, fancylad,
How did you blow your inheritance, fancylad?
Sing me your parents' embarrassment, fancylad
Sing to me your pink-flowering thorn
You never asked to be born

Your wound, wherever did you find it?
Wet-petaled like a vagina
Shall I straighten this crooked boutonniere?
It shouldn't be pinned onto your coat
Plant it deep in your heart's hole
Wherever did you find it?

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.