| In the living-room a man on a sofa is laying
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| Two strangers at the door and one is knocking
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| The man stands and opens the great wooden door
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| The one who knows the host tells the other visitor
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| An old man with top hat and a dark walking stick
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| Gets through the wooden door and says without a trick
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| I want to buy the portrait of this old heroine
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| I ll never sell this one not even to a king
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| since he finished his last work
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| Percy s gone wild and casts strange lurks
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| Like a mad man who went too far
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| His oil is the cause let s take it afar
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| come back tomorrow says the painter s friend
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| Sir, maybe tomorrow in a sale it ll end
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| Tonight, we ll try to make his mind change
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| And off with the oil, Sir, thou might get a chance
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| since he finished his last work
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| Percy s gone wild and casts strange lurks
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| Like a mad man who went too far
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| His oil is the cause let s take it afar
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| All eve long young ones tried to convince him
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| To let the old man by this sale enrich him
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| The talks are loud and words are high
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| Nothing to do but leave him tonight
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| All alone the painter stares at his work
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| There s a woman face with dark and long hair
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| Percy takes a book and reads it aloud
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| beautiful & perverse, Genuine a slave was made
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| Priestess of mysteries bought by a strange old man
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| He falls asleep and the portrait comes alive
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| And dressed with black ribbons lays by his side |