Roses blister on his skin, fill him full of lies, withered posies crumbling in his hand Destroy the lucky amulet, and damn us with the flies, read the last rites "Blessed be the people" is a mockery, from clergy which approves the kiss of death! Ring-a-ring the children sing, the black plague bells are heralding The funeral pyre, for beggar, priest and king
No, no, no - nobility's no sanctuary Flee, flee, flee the rat's bubonic flea But the scourge is everywhere, England weeps in her despair And in misty eyes a cure cannot be seen
Raging pox and pestilence are dripping with the blood The slavering black doe roams everywhere Smites the ones he bites, and drags the ones he misses down, the worst is yet to come As 1665 turns into 1666, a dread like none before grips every man As the prince of darkness sets a loose his wicked bag of tricks Will the evil lord unleash his master plan?
"This plague and the impending conflagration are signs from God And thus we, the flagellants, shall inflict punishment Upon our bodily flesh and other earthly manifestations To atone for the sins of the world"
Satan had sent out a plot as cruel as it was grand To raze away the English capital As the final time began, he brought me flames to make his stand And thirteen times the baker shook his hand In the hellish heat of his retreat, the devil did a-spy The souls of London town were ripe for taking From the depths of his disguise, through the black slits of his eyes The fallen angel watched the city die
Fire, fire, fire - is burning London town Try, try, try - to beat the flames down But the heat is too intense, and its thirst cannot be quenched And London's burning to the ground
Ring-a-ring o' roses, a pocket full o posies A-tishoo! A-tishoo! - we all fall downTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
