Song of Joy
Have mercy on me, sirAllow me to impose on youI have no place to stayAnd my bones are cold right throughI will tell you a storyOf a man and his familyAnd I swear that it is trueTen years ago I met a girl named joyShe was a sweet and happy thingHer eyes were bright blue jewelsAnd we were married in the springI had no idea what happiness and little love couldbringOr what life had in storeBut all things move toward their endAll things move toward their their endOn that you can be sureLa la la la la la la la la laLa la la la la la la la la laThen one morning I awoke to find herweepingAnd for many days to followShe grew so sad and lonelyBecame joy in name onlyWithin her breast there launched an unnamed sorrowAnd a dark and grim force set sail* farewell happy fields ** where joy forever dwells ** hail horrors hail *Was it an act of contrition or some awful premonitionAs if she saw into the heart of her final blood-soakedNightThose lunatic eyes, that hungry kitchen knifeAh, I see sir, that I have your attention!Well, could it be?How often I’ve asked that questionWell, then in quick successionWe had babies, one, two, threeWe called them hilda, hattie and hollyThey were their mother’s childrenTheir eyes were bright blue jewelsAnd they were quiet as a mouseThere was no laughter in the houseNo, not from hilda, hattie or hollyNo wonder, people said, poor motherJoy’s so melancholyWell, one night there came a visitor to our little homeI was visiting a sick friendI was a doctor thenJoy and the girls were on their ownLa la la la la la la la la laLa la la la la la la la la laJoy had been bound with electrical tapeIn her mouth a gagShe’d been stabbed repeatedlyAnd stuffed into a sleeping bagIn their very cots my girls were robbed of theirlivesMethod of murder much the same as my wife’sMethod of murder much the same as my wife’sIt was midnight when I arrived homeSaid to the police on the telephoneSomeone’s taken four innocent livesThey never caught the manHe’s still on the looseIt seems he has done many many moreQuotes john milton on the walls in the victim’s bloodThe police are investigating at tremendous costIn my house he wrote * his red right hand *That, I’m told is from paradise lostThe wind round here gets wicked coldBut my story is nearly toldI fear the morning will bring quite a frostAnd so I’ve left my homeI drift from land to landI am upon your step and you are a family manOutside the vultures wheelThe wolves howl, the serpents hissAnd to extend this small favour, friendWould be the sum of earthly blissDo you reckon me a friend?* the sun to me is dark ** and silent as the moon *Do you, sir, have a room?Are you beckoning me in?La la la la la la la la la laLa la la la la la la la la la