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Birthday Party, The Miscellaneous Swampland Quixanne, ah'm in its grip Quixanne, ah'm in its grip Sinken in the mud Patron-saint of the bog. They cum with boots of blud Wit pitchfawk and with club Chantin out mah name Got doggies strainin onna chain Lucy, ah'll love ya till the end! They hunt me like a dog Down in sw-a-a-a-amp land! So cum mah executioners! cum bounty hunters! Cum mah county killers--for ah cannot run no more Ah cannot run no more Ah cannot run no more No i can't! Lucy, ya won't see this face agin Wheb ya caught ya swing and burn... Down in sw-a-a-a-amp land! The trees are veiled in fog The trees are veiled in fog Like so many jilted brides Now they're all breakin down and cry Cryin tears upon mah face Cryin tears upon mah face And they smell of gasolene A-a-a-a-ah- scr-e-e-e-a-am Lucy, ya made a sinner out of me Now ah'm burnin like a saint Down in sw-a-a-a-amp land! So cum mah executioners! cum mah bounty huntahs! Cum mah county killers--ya know ah cannot run no more No ah cannot run no more. |
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