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 ...
|
|
-----------------
|
WONDERFUL WOMAN
|
| The Smiths |
