Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange orchestra 

Mannequin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra 



Lilliputian, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf harp 

He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of moleskin 



A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput 

The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the celloist solos 



The sky blackens and the bass string slackens and they stand statuesquely 

Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door in the big dark oak tree