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 ...