I am a crooked man and I've walked a crooked mile
Night, the shameless widow doffed her weeds, in a pile
The stars all winked at me, they shamed a child
Your funeral, my trial
One thousand Marys lured me into gullies damped with clover
Bird with crooked wing cast it's wicked shadow over
The bauble moon did mock and trinket stars did smile
Your funeral, my trial
Here I am, little lamb, let all the bells in whoredom ring
All the crooked bitches that she was
Mongers of pain saw the moon become a fang
Your funeral, my trial, your funeral, my trial
Your funeral, my trial
© MUTE SONG;
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