| And in Winter she cried
|
| December tears
|
| And in Summer she cried
|
| August tears
|
| And in Autumn she cried
|
| November tears
|
| And in Springtime she cried
|
| April tears
|
| On the fat of the land
|
| The sacred calf, the fatted lamb
|
| Cry Cassandra, while you can
|
| The salted earth, a grain of sand
|
| These salty eyes don’t understand
|
| Soon there won’t be time to cry
|
| Buried up to her film-projector eyes
|
| And in Winter she cried
|
| December tears
|
| And in Summer she cried
|
| August tears
|
| And in Autumn she cried
|
| November tears
|
| And in Springtime she cried
|
| April tears
|
| But now she hasn’t any tears to spare
|
| So she doesn’t cry at all
|
| Sing Cassandra, all night long
|
| Now she knows what eyes are for
|
| Now she knows what tears are for
|
| Now she knows that summers gone
|
| Now she’ll squander tears no more
|
| Cry Cassandra all night long |