When your boy's back home
All flaxen like his father, all ulcerous and swollen
You let him know when he comes to ask his mother
His stomach thick with cancer, "oh, mother, what's the matter?"
You let him know
And your comely little daughter
Well surely she would look just like her mother
Her lungs filled up with water
Till all the perfumes of Prussia can't sweeten up her lovely little head
You make her understand
You tell them kids what I did down in Egypt
And you tell your bitch what I did back in England
Sweet sister Scotland, she's on her knees more often than her feet
And her wounds will weep, and my knees went weak
Sell all the pretty things
Sell off everything you did
Let all my pretty chickens have their piece
Let them sleep
Oh, I had such an awful dream
It was gone
it was all gone
Even the sky was gone
And I, I was slender, black, and bright
When you asked, "Are you the night?
And I did not reply
The night is long but never finds the day
And I'll take this all away
I'll take it all away