And it came to pass in the days of the fret and the fingerVanity and vexation cause a soul to lingerI got damned for a plan to win, just measure'inBut the hip went first in the winepress and set a man to sinDipped therefore, in the bowlAnd pick the lot as it falls before the foal and the lilyOh god almighty, it's a little bit silly

For the sick man is cleaner than her gardenAnd the whoreson's sin—not of fruit—but of countin'And the Lord said unto the nail, be filedBut not brokenAnd he smiled

Because the orange gave tongue in a strange landAnd the small-gutted instrument groaned badAnd we all stood tall at the gate withA measure and a half, and a coo and a laughAnd then all were on God's pathWhile the Devil trode in ash

And the tip was counted unto him as nothingFor the hips entered into the coveningBut all were made a fool becauseNone knew he was bluffing

It's nothingI broke myself for somethingIt's one thingTo stand screamingWhen you're lost but Mary is beaming

And I do not compenseTo sin is to dispenseI'll leave nothing to chance

For the sick man lie'eth down with the wholeAnd Eve ate not of the appleYet the fig tree withered in her shadow

French tips, mandarin, banjo and a mandolinFrench tips, mandarin, banjo and a mandolinFrench tips, mandarin, banjo and a mandolin

The Foal and the Lily ⬇️

_Before the Foal and the Lily, Draft 2, M_04.wavThe Foal and the Lily, Draft 2.wav