With Her Head Tucked

In the town of London, largest life, the coast of Annville in Milwaukee, The coaster that Molyne walked a bell, For Molyne was once king of his wife, Until he made the headsman barber hill.

I asked here one long years ago, And she comes out at night to tell them so, With the head, Talk underneath her arm, She walks the bloody tower, With the red top underneath the arm at the midnight hour She comes to honking Henry, she means giving him what for Yeah, soon she's going to tell him all she's feeling very sore

And just in case the head's been wants to give her an encore She has the red top underneath the arm The winterman, duck, underneath her arm She warps the bloody power With the red duck, underneath her arm At the midnight hour The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in And when they patter few, they shout his army going to win

They think that it's Red Range instead of Coronavonle Will the Red not underneath the rock Sometimes he depends on the spread For all his pals and gals the ghostly clues The heads can pause the joints and touch the bread And in comes Handful in to clear the deuce She holds her hand with a wild war hoof, and Henry tries don't profit in the soup.

Build her head up underneath her hall. She walks the bloody tower with her head, dark underneath her arm at the midnight hour. When I'd she caught King Henry, he was in the canteen bar That he, all you jinxed, seemed on anvil, hit or castran fire The hands of Shrits and Mary, I know who you are