Our lady on the Bleeding Ground, her satin gown is trailing in the mud. She
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ducks a football cos it's Christmas Day and the shells are duds. And Tom
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and Jerry drink their Bovril, crawl out from the trenches swap their wives,
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and swap addresses til Our Lady's calling time. Then back in line behind
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your pistols. Swines in schnitzels. Zyklon Tea. You hear him plea, you
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watch him grovel. Give it to him right between the eyes...
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Our Lady In Chambers
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| The Legendary Pink Dots |
