The harpy was the topsWhose hair contained some redThin white skeletonJust too good in bed.He mother from the circusPut her on junior show timeHer father was much worseCan’t put why in this lineAnd in the little villageShe was without maliceShe left the moors behind herAnd the beige heatherPacked her placky* bagWith blocks of brown cannabis.She took a lousy wednesdayTurned it into cold springShe got taller by the minuteShe could sell you anythingAnd the morning afterI was quite astonishedShe gripped me like a hawkHer talons were quite famishedAscend harpySing harpyDescend harpyGive me harpy
