It Was a Gift

Pin a flower to my pocket Place a hat upon my head Like a statue, I am pointless Like a relic, I am dead And I read about it in a great big book And I saw it on some late night television In the dirt, there were diggers hauling up the rocks In the dirt, there were diggers making some awful church There were fingers in the butter and pockets full of earth And pockets full of earth Victoria plum jam Thrown at the wrong man A long, long time ago And I read about it So it must be true So it must be true Uh-huh, yeah, uh-huh So, so, so glorious, uh-huh So glorious Well, well, it's a good story If you only hear it once And the story goes like this There was a king And he had men, some Englishmen And the rain was coming down in buckets And the jam was ruined Why does it cost so much to have a little peace and quiet? And I read about it So it must be true So it must be true Now I can laugh about it Cry a little, cry a little too Now I can, I can laugh about it Cry a little, cry a little, cry a little too