Eyes clear as dialtone Are you at home? Are you alone? I call on the phone Where have you gone, are you out on the street Dead on your feet, or harvesting wheat? My introvert are you out chasing skirt? Singing fiddle me rum Fiddle me dumb Your lady in her antechamber
Turtledove, my quivertail My purple head, my nightingale My corkscrewing fool Cuckold, coxcomb is it me who's insane Or is it you who's got sex on the brain? Always discreet, always obscene The Viscompte de Lisle is calling me still Your lady in her antechamber
And time is passing And you don't call, and my crest falls So where are you now? Out with some cow at some Japanese inn Opening pork cooked in its skin Pouring red wine like blood down a string Singing fiddle me rum Fiddle me dumb Your lady in her antechamber
Eyes clear as dialtone Here comes the queen Always discreet, always obscene Pushing her luck like the pig who got stuck Don't think she hasn't got men queuing up The Marquis of Rochdale's not here for good luck Singing fiddle me rum Fiddle me dumb Your lady in her antechamber
Compositor: Nicholas John Currie ECAD: Obra #2063537