As the sun is sinking low
|
and the evening's tucked in tow
|
On the horizon, my true love I see.
|
She ain't fancy, she ain't fine
|
While her fingers number only nine
|
She's the belle of the ball of the insurgency.
|
|
She's my Bandit Queen, laying beneath the moon
|
In a bandit cave, a blanket laid for two
|
If I could find a way to your hideaway by the sea
|
O Bandit Queen, steal away to me.
|
|
Somewhere in a mountain, by a starry water fountain
|
In an alcove hid by some trees
|
Amidst a pile of treasure, reclining at her leisure,
|
My ladylove sniffs as the breeze.
|
|
And sitting up, she adjusts her turban
|
And takes another swig from a bottle of bourbon
|
And listening to the whistling of a train at station
|
Odds are it will never reach its destination.
|
|
'Cause the Bandit Queen, astride her steed will ride
|
O let me be the one to lay within your theivin' arms tonight.
|
|
She's my Bandit Queen, laying beneath the moon
|
In a bandit cave, there's a blanket laid for two
|
If I could find a way to your hideaway by the sea
|
O Bandit Queen, steal away to me.
|
|
-----------------
|
The Bandit Queen
|
| The Decemberists |
