A plague on the poor now
I beat on my drum 'til I'm dead
Yesterday, fever
Tomorrow, St. Peter
I'll beat on my drum until then
What melody will lead my lover from his bed?
What melody will see him in my arms again?
Set fire the foundation
And burn out the station
You'll never get nothing of mine
The pane of my window
Will flicker and glimmer
Leave only the stitching behind
Oh, what melody will lead my lover from his bed?
What melody will see him in my arms again?
I'll sing of the walls of the well
And the house at the top of the hill
I'll sing of the bottles of wine
That we left on our old windowsill
I'll sing of the usual spin
Getting sadder and older, oh love
A plague in the workhouse A plague on the poor now I beat on my drum 'til I'm dead Yesterday, fever Tomorrow, St. Peter I'll beat on my drum until then What melody will lead my lover from his bed? What melody will see him in my arms again? Set fire the foundation And burn out the station You'll never get nothing of mine The pane of my window Will flicker and glimmer Leave only the stitching behind Oh, what melody will lead my lover from his bed? What melody will see him in my arms again? I'll sing of the walls of the well And the house at the top of the hill I'll sing of the bottles of wine That we left on our old windowsill I'll sing of the usual spin Getting sadder and older, oh love Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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