Have mercy on me, sir
Allow me to impose on you
I have no place to stay

And my bones are cold right through
I will tell you a story
Of a man and his family

And I swear that it is true
Ten years ago I met a girl named Joy
She was a sweet and happy thing

Her eyes were bright blue jewels
And we were married in the spring
I had no idea what happiness and little love could bring

Or what life had in store
But all things move toward their end
All things move toward their their end

On that you can be sure
La la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la

Then one morning I awoke to find her weeping
And for many days to follow
She grew so sad and lonely

Became Joy in name only
Within her breast there launched an unnamed sorrow
And a dark and grim force set sail

Farewell happy fields
Where joy forever dwells
* Hail horrors hail *

Was it an act of contrition or some awful premonition
As if she saw into the heart of her final blood-soaked night
Those lunatic eyes, that hungry kitchen knife

Ah, I see sir, that I have your attention!
Well, could it be?
How often I've asked that question

Well, then in quick succession
We had babies, one, two, three
We called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly

They were their mother's children
Their eyes were bright blue jewels
And they were quiet as a mouse

There was no laughter in the house
No, not from Hilda, Hattie or Holly
"No wonder", people said, "poor mother Joy's so melancholy"

Well, one night there came a visitor to our little home
I was visiting a sick friend
I was a doctor then

Joy and the girls were on their own
La la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la

Joy had been bound with electrical tape
In her mouth a gag
She'd been stabbed repeatedly

And stuffed into a sleeping bag
In their very cots my girls were robbed of their lives
Method of murder much the same as my wife's

Method of murder much the same as my wife's
It was midnight when I arrived home
Said to the police on the telephone

Someone's taken four innocent lives
They never caught the man
He's still on the loose

It seems he has done many many more
Quotes John Milton on the walls in the victim's blood
The police are investigating at tremendous cost

In my house he wrote "his red right hand"
That, I'm told is from Paradise Lost
The wind round here gets wicked cold

But my story is nearly told
I fear the morning will bring quite a frost
And so I've left my home

I drift from land to land
I am upon your step and you are a family man
Outside the vultures wheel

The wolves howl, the serpents hiss
And to extend this small favour, friend
Would be the sum of earthly bliss

Do you reckon me a friend?
The sun to me is dark
And silent as the moon
Do you, sir, have a room?
Are you beckoning me in?

La la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la