The village idiot
She cut off her ear my dear, her ear.
She cut of her ear!
But now I can only shout so loud,
She might not be able to hear-
Dreadful as the pie at noon
You know it will never be apple,
Grapes that ripen at sour spoon
The prostitute left the chapel.
Duke, the duke howls the horn
The night is now dawn.
Blinking eyes follow my stocks,
Throwing rotten eggs
Tomatoes and rocks.
Bells are ringing it’s a puritan age
Jesse James buckled her boots,
Traditional ale and heaven scent sage
The joker choked at the sight of the noose-