The Musical Box Lyrics
| Song | The Musical Box |
| Artist | Genesis |
| Album | Genesis 1970-1975 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Written：Banks/Collins/Gabriel/Hackett/Rutherford/Phillips | |
| While Henry Hamilton-Smythe minor (8) was playing croquet with | |
| Cynthia Jane De Blaise-William (9), sweet-smiling Cynthia raised | |
| her mallet high and gracefully removed Henry's head. Two weeks | |
| later, in Henry's nursery, she discovered his treasured musical | |
| box. Eagerly she opened it and as "Old King Cole" began to play, | |
| a small spirit- figure appeared. Henry had returned - but not for | |
| long, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly, | |
| leaving a child's mind inside. A lifetime's desires surged through | |
| him. Unfortunately the attempt to persuade Cynthia Jane to fulfill | |
| his romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate | |
| the noise. Instinctively Nanny hurled the musical box at the | |
| bearded child, destroying both. | |
| Play me Old King Cole | |
| That I may join with you, | |
| All your hearts now seem so far from me | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| And the nurse will tell you lies | |
| Of a kingdom beyond the skies. | |
| But I am lost within this half-world, | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Just a little bit, | |
| Just a little bit more time, | |
| Time left to live out my life. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Old King Cole was a merry old soul, | |
| And a merry old soul was he. | |
| So he called for his pipe, | |
| And he called for his bowl, | |
| And he called for his fiddlers three. | |
| But the clock, tick-tock, | |
| On the mantlepiece - | |
| And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch, | |
| Her warmth... | |
| She's a lady, she's got time, | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face. | |
| She's a lady, she is mine. | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh. | |
| I've been waiting here for so long | |
| And all this time has passed me by | |
| It doesn't seem to matter now | |
| You stand there with your fixed expression | |
| Casting doubt on all I have to say. | |
| Why don't you touch me, touch me, | |
| Why don't you touch me, touch me, | |
| Touch me now, now, now, now, now... |
| Written: Banks Collins Gabriel Hackett Rutherford Phillips | |
| While Henry HamiltonSmythe minor 8 was playing croquet with | |
| Cynthia Jane De BlaiseWilliam 9, sweetsmiling Cynthia raised | |
| her mallet high and gracefully removed Henry' s head. Two weeks | |
| later, in Henry' s nursery, she discovered his treasured musical | |
| box. Eagerly she opened it and as " Old King Cole" began to play, | |
| a small spirit figure appeared. Henry had returned but not for | |
| long, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly, | |
| leaving a child' s mind inside. A lifetime' s desires surged through | |
| him. Unfortunately the attempt to persuade Cynthia Jane to fulfill | |
| his romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate | |
| the noise. Instinctively Nanny hurled the musical box at the | |
| bearded child, destroying both. | |
| Play me Old King Cole | |
| That I may join with you, | |
| All your hearts now seem so far from me | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| And the nurse will tell you lies | |
| Of a kingdom beyond the skies. | |
| But I am lost within this halfworld, | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Just a little bit, | |
| Just a little bit more time, | |
| Time left to live out my life. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Old King Cole was a merry old soul, | |
| And a merry old soul was he. | |
| So he called for his pipe, | |
| And he called for his bowl, | |
| And he called for his fiddlers three. | |
| But the clock, ticktock, | |
| On the mantlepiece | |
| And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch, | |
| Her warmth... | |
| She' s a lady, she' s got time, | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face. | |
| She' s a lady, she is mine. | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh. | |
| I' ve been waiting here for so long | |
| And all this time has passed me by | |
| It doesn' t seem to matter now | |
| You stand there with your fixed expression | |
| Casting doubt on all I have to say. | |
| Why don' t you touch me, touch me, | |
| Why don' t you touch me, touch me, | |
| Touch me now, now, now, now, now... |
| Written: Banks Collins Gabriel Hackett Rutherford Phillips | |
| While Henry HamiltonSmythe minor 8 was playing croquet with | |
| Cynthia Jane De BlaiseWilliam 9, sweetsmiling Cynthia raised | |
| her mallet high and gracefully removed Henry' s head. Two weeks | |
| later, in Henry' s nursery, she discovered his treasured musical | |
| box. Eagerly she opened it and as " Old King Cole" began to play, | |
| a small spirit figure appeared. Henry had returned but not for | |
| long, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly, | |
| leaving a child' s mind inside. A lifetime' s desires surged through | |
| him. Unfortunately the attempt to persuade Cynthia Jane to fulfill | |
| his romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate | |
| the noise. Instinctively Nanny hurled the musical box at the | |
| bearded child, destroying both. | |
| Play me Old King Cole | |
| That I may join with you, | |
| All your hearts now seem so far from me | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| And the nurse will tell you lies | |
| Of a kingdom beyond the skies. | |
| But I am lost within this halfworld, | |
| It hardly seems to matter now. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Just a little bit, | |
| Just a little bit more time, | |
| Time left to live out my life. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Play me my song. | |
| Here it comes again. | |
| Old King Cole was a merry old soul, | |
| And a merry old soul was he. | |
| So he called for his pipe, | |
| And he called for his bowl, | |
| And he called for his fiddlers three. | |
| But the clock, ticktock, | |
| On the mantlepiece | |
| And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch, | |
| Her warmth... | |
| She' s a lady, she' s got time, | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face. | |
| She' s a lady, she is mine. | |
| Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh. | |
| I' ve been waiting here for so long | |
| And all this time has passed me by | |
| It doesn' t seem to matter now | |
| You stand there with your fixed expression | |
| Casting doubt on all I have to say. | |
| Why don' t you touch me, touch me, | |
| Why don' t you touch me, touch me, | |
| Touch me now, now, now, now, now... |
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