There's no infinite reckoning in this eternal line
No deeper meaning beckoning in this runic design
So folk me Amadeus one more time

My children were fair and wore stars in their hair
Now they're bald, watch TV, and buy New Age CDs
The unicorn's a horse on whom some sad bastard
Has superglued a horn of plastic

In a post-everything world it still pains me, girl, to spell it out for you
The Celtic skirl of Alan Stivell might as well be 'Cotton Eye Joe'
Put it flat on the floor with a 4/4 beat, add Monsieur Oiseau

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in London, Paris, San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco

The druids were bullies on mushrooms and brew
Selling mindbending moonshine to suckers like you
To undermine it all
It's a bill of snake oil
I wish the myths were true, but you should be so lucky, lucky

Roots, schmoots, you should know by now
It's the Electronic age, not the Jurassic
Gypsy, schmipsy you're all just as tipsy
As Tiny Tim tripping on acid
Your Celtic moonshine is J. Arthur Rank
The Incredible String Band is banned from my Republic
King Arthur is laughing all the way to the bank
Muscle men in thongs all oiled up and bronzed swing their prongs
To batter a horrible bong from the execrable Gong

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in Tokyo and San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco

The world is superflat now, but ironies abound
Transcendence isn't dead, it just went deeper underground
Within this 'no infinity' infinity is found
The lack of deeper meaning's getting deeper all the time
'Cotton Eye Joe' may just be joke folk techno
But tonight it had me crying
So folk me Amadeus one more time

Tragedy, Celtic tragedy
I lost myself in Marrakesh and San Fransisco
So folk me, Amadeus, to Celtic tragedy disco