Lyrics:
dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall. "Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin. "Roses to deaden the clods as they fall." "Then beat the drum slowly, play
automated teller code I was born in a paper sack in the bottom of a sewer I had to eat dirt clods for breakfast, my family was so poor My daddy was
behind? Never mind, Cinderella, kind Cinderella Nice, good, nice, kind, good, nice Ow, not that tight! Sorry Clod Who might that be? It's the witch
pretty gals come to carry my pall Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin Throw roses to deaden the clods as they fall ""Oh, beat the drum
behind? Never mind, Cinderella, kind Cinderella Nice, good, nice, kind, good, nice Ow, not that tight! Sorry Clod Who might that be? It's the witch
up my pall "Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin "Roses to deaden the clods as they fall" "Then beat the drum slowly Play the Fife lowly "Play
coffin. "Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall. "Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin. "Roses to deaden the clods as they fall." "Then beat
coffin. "Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall. "Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin. "Roses to deaden the clods as they fall." "Then beat
Wearin' old T-shirts and grubby jeans People say I look kinda odd Well, I'm never accepted in the social set 'Cause they say that I'm a clod But
smelling on your flowers Nappy hairy chest, look it's Austin Powers (aw, yeah, baby) I hear ya tweeting on them fag-pipes, clod But you said it best,
plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in Threw clods upon his head And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn was dead They've let him
deep, Laid clods upon his head, Then these three man made a solemn vow John Barleycorn was dead. The let him die for a very long time Till the rain
smelling on your flowers Nappy hairy chest, look it's Austin Powers (aw, yeah, baby) I hear ya tweeting on them fag-pipes, clod But you said it best,
ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed, thrown clods upon his head Till these three men were satisfied John Barleycorn was dead There's beer all in
vest and I catch the magnum like they let tech rest and toe tagged em' After the beat him tied him to the truck and clod dragged em' Like i died
one, a clod, she's obscene Cinderella Her nose in the air And her head in her books Well guess who, confess, who It's bad Cinderella We see who, it's she
coffin. "Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall. "Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin. "Roses to deaden the clods as they fall." "Then beat
nice Ow! Not that tight! Clod! Who might that be? We've sold our last loaf of bread! It's the witch from next door We have no bread I
crumbling like a dirt clod, hold Your cigarette cuts to the inside Empty homes Plastic cones Stolen rims, are they alloy or chrome? Well I've got
crumbling like a dirt clod, hold Your cigarette cuts to the inside Empty homes Plastic cones Stolen rims, are they alloy or chrome? Well I've got
of the rainbow Your head was heavy and your heart was dim 'Round and 'round, you felt the dirt clods breaking loose Until you fell into my tender hands
ploughed, they've sewn, they've harrowed him in, Threw clods upon his head, And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn was dead. They've let
ploughed, they've sewn, they've harrowed him in, Threw clods at Barley's head, And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn was dead. They've
and mores I wanna be your basic clod Who made good and went away while he could To somewhere where people are still human beings Where they have spirit
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