| In the cold, the coldest of nights
|
| A fire alights to warm my bones
|
| I’ve had enough of the dreadful cold
|
| And from the flames appears Salome
|
| I stand before her amazed
|
| As she dances and demands
|
| The head of John the Baptist on a plate
|
| In the morning
|
| Shaken and disturbed
|
| From under soft white furs
|
| See the dust in the morning bright
|
| Sets the room alight
|
| By the telly appears Salome
|
| I stand before her amazed
|
| As she dances and demands
|
| The head of Isadora Duncan on a plate
|
| Oh, Salome
|
| Oh, Salome
|
| In the cold, coldest of nights
|
| A fire alights to warm my bones
|
| I’ve had enough of the dreadful cold
|
| From the flames appears Salome
|
| I stand before her amazed
|
| As she dances and demands
|
| The head of any bastard on a plate |