| I adore thee Mother Mary
|
| But would you change me back to a witch
|
| And let me live in the arms of a sorry old elm
|
| Give the gypsy moths a realm of their own
|
| For a postman’s fee would I work for Thee
|
| From that tree would I swoop down and leave
|
| A billion blue eggs of eternity
|
| And in no time you’d have your own See
|
| Don’t just stare
|
| I mean it, really
|
| Hear my prayer
|
| I give it freely
|
| Are you there Fleur-de-Lis?
|
| I adore thee Mother Mary
|
| But would you change me back to a witch
|
| And let me live in the arms of willow
|
| And fly around not wearing a stitch
|
| For so long has this room been so hollow
|
| We wait at the gate for an echo
|
| In the flesh of your newly cleaned frescoes
|
| Where Jesus holds John to his breast
|
| Wrapped around
|
| And rocking slowly
|
| No one bound
|
| To be so holy
|
| In your gown of fleur-de-lis
|
| I adore thee Mother Mary
|
| But would you change me back to a witch
|
| As a witch would I love you more than any man
|
| So give a wink, give a nod, but give a damn
|
| Be a sport, Mary, and don’t tell Dad
|
| He need never know how He’s been had
|
| And never you mind about those seven seals
|
| Daddy was a one shot deal
|
| One, two, three
|
| It could be that easy
|
| There we’d be
|
| I with my baby
|
| On a sea of fleur-de-lis
|
| Do-re-mi
|
| It could be that easy
|
| There we’d be
|
| I with my baby
|
| On a sea of fleur-de-lis |