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 ?

Oh, what to be done with her ?

Oh ...





Ice water for blood

With neither heart or spine

And then just

To pass time; let us go and rob the blind





What to be done with her ?

I ask myself :

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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