Lyrics |
Here her head, she lay Until she'd rise and say : "i'm starved of mirth; Let's go and trip a dwarf"
Oh, what to be done with her ? What to be done with her ? Oh ...
Ice water for blood With neither heart or spine And then just, and then just To pass time; let us go and rob the blind
What to be done with her ? Oh, what to ... What to be said of her ? Oh ...
But when she calls me, i do not walk, i run Oh, when she calls, i do not walk, i run Oh ... Oh ...
Oh ...
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