The Bones in the Ground - Robyn Hitchcock

Oh Vera my sweet

I would offer you some meat

In exchange for a good loaf of wax

I would smear it on you

And on all your apples too

If I thought it would help you relax

But the bones in the ground

Well they never make a sound

And the bones in the ground are all fine

And the bones in the air

Well they haven’t got a care

And the bones in the air are all mine

Oh shiny Maureen

Won’t you tell me where you’ve been

And I’ll work out where you should be now

In a cluster of apes

That do rub themselves with grapes

You’ll be tied to the back of a cow

But the bones in the ground

Well they never make a sound

And the bones in the ground are all fine

And the bones in the wind

Lord have mercy how they grinned

And the bones in the wind are all mine

Oh Paula-Lorraine

Won’t you comment on my sprain

And I’ll shave you in some cozy church

I don’t care what you’re called

I just want to shave you bald

And I’ll know that I’ve finished my search

But the bones in the ground

Well they never make a sound

And the bones in the ground are all fine

And the bones in the air

Well they sing a rattling air

And the bones in the air are all mine