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Oh Vera my sweet |
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I would offer you some meat |
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In exchange for a good loaf of wax |
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I would smear it on you |
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And on all your apples too |
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If I thought it would help you relax |
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But the bones in the ground |
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Well they never make a sound |
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And the bones in the ground are all fine |
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And the bones in the air |
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Well they haven't got a care |
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And the bones in the air are all mine |
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Oh shiny Maureen |
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Won't you tell me where you've been |
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And I'll work out where you should be now |
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In a cluster of apes |
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That do rub themselves with grapes |
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You'll be tied to the back of a cow |
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But the bones in the ground |
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Well they never make a sound |
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And the bones in the ground are all fine |
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And the bones in the wind |
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Lord have mercy how they grinned |
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And the bones in the wind are all mine |
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Oh Paula-Lorraine |
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Won't you comment on my sprain |
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And I'll shave you in some cozy church |
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I don't care what you're called |
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I just want to shave you bald |
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And I'll know that I've finished my search |
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But the bones in the ground |
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Well they never make a sound |
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And the bones in the ground are all fine |
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And the bones in the air |
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Well they sing a rattling air |
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And the bones in the air are all mine |
