[ music: Robert Buck/lyric: Natalie Merchant ]
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here is the store house of Her Majesty
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well guarded by sentry
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but looks are free
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call this the rayless and benighted age
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witches by tallow candles shifted
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shifted their shapes
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here is the pestle and mortar
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that ground the poison seed
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a lute, a suit for jousting
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and the poems of a balladeer
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when all the Latin books were copied off
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in golden script
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well hoarded away in
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a monastery crypt
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superstition
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superstition beyond belief
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over mountain, over dune and over sea
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crude map and compass lead the caravan
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and lead the fleet
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here's the loot and plunder
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they bore home
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ivory tusk inlaid with precious stone
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raw silk and spices by the barrel load
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a soft skin drum with mallets
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of human bone
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a world wide rampage
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rampage of greed
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so here the tour concludes
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The Colonial Wing
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the rooms of the most refined
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museum property
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an early pair of spectacles
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a claw footed divan
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ornate clocks with birds that strut
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on the half hours and quarter hours
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hear them chime
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The Colonial Wing
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| 10000 Maniacs |
