| Up into the dying tree
|
| Who should climb but little me?
|
| I held the trunk with both my hands
|
| And looked abroad on foreign lands
|
| «Crime, doesn’t pay» what the preacher told
|
| Time, fight against four walls
|
| Ride, there is no moment to lose for the — Satan’s Host
|
| To where the roads on either hand
|
| Lead onward to fairy land
|
| Where the monsters run to hide
|
| And all the playthings come alive
|
| «Crime, doesn’t pay» what the preacher told
|
| Time, fight against four walls
|
| Ride, there is no moment to lose for the — Satan’s Host
|
| Up into the dying tree
|
| Who should climb but little me?
|
| I held the trunk with both my hands
|
| And looked abroad on foreign lands
|
| «Crime, doesn’t pay» what the preacher told
|
| Time, fight against four walls
|
| Ride, there is no moment to lose for the — Satan’s Host |