- Album Intro
- Lyrics
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Stephen Lynch
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Medieval Bush
My fair lady to my bed we go And very sweet pleasures we shall know And where thy belly meets thy limb I beseech thee give a trim For thy bush thine overflow
Zounds, it's as prickly as a Christmas wreath Think it may hide some baby birds beneath Pray shave it off to make a coat There are furballs down my throat Short and curly twigs my teeth
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