45*21

they gave me a rod and a divine voice
what is and what will be under their feet
the shaking of fine bells, an earthquake
I drove a solemn metered heart
to fan the flames of passion's fire
and bring the Queen a load of wood
with my long hair and lance I was like a greedy child
who woke from a dream to find himself this hairy man
I banged my head against the wall
or maybe it was the Queen's foot
either way it was hard as oak
and my lance was melted molten mud
well I couldn't keep the bees from my eyes
the booze ran rank up from plaid swamp
It was time to hit the links, I said
and took off for skeleton lake
where I could get a decent hotdog
there I stood the chance of running into the family hitman
his kind eyes were like chambers I could run through
I needed a scotch and soda to wash down this pho-pork
this pumpkin's gone rotten