I have become the worn man with the leathern skin,
It feels like theres a barbed pin needle chuteing rapids through my bloodstream.
I can see my veins throbbing opaque through my
Bird neck skin.
But I would retake back all them years if Wulf would Repay my kindness with Wulfs teeth.
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
It could be
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
If I could wear his teeth.
I would take my Grandson down to town
And we'd look on all them girls
Lined up on them splintered benches,
I flash my pumpkin toothed grin and I would get me three of them
Then I would give one to Petr who has yet to cut his teeth.
He'd have to gum them but for me with Wulfs teeth...
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
It could be
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
If I could wear his teeth.
Now Petr put me upstairs and I'm locked inside this trap. There is only left that six inches where I see his shadow going forward and back.
He slides my dinner neath those six inches and mashed it in one my traps for me.
He'll quit me of this family,
There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
It could be
It could be pork on Friday and fish on the Sabbath,
If I could wear that old Wulf's teeth.