Jolson and Jones

[Verse 1]

As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the window

As the grossness of spring lolls its bloodied head

[Refrain]

Curare! Curare! Curare!

Brogue cries from the street

Curare! Curare!

[Verse 2]

As the grossness of spring rose a tumor balloon to squeak against the window

With the grossness of spring staining into the walls

[Verse 3]

The chair had been shifted ever so slightly

Say five feet or two centimeters

The prints of my fingers dusted from doorknobs

A lamp had been dimmed

Some saw dust where a ring had been

Where nice girls were turned into whores

Gardens with fountains where peacocks had strutted

Where dead children were born

The splendour of tigers turning to gold in the desert

Pale meadows of stranded pyramids

[Refrain]

Sonny boy, such a sonny boy

There's a song in the air

Curare! Curare! Curare!

But the fair señorita don't seem to care

Curare! Curare! Curare!

[Verse 1]

As the grossness of spring lolls its head against the window

As the grossness of spring lolls its bloodied head

[Verse 4]

I merely got up so slowly, shuffled across the floor

Closed the door on the landing, descending the stairs

Dipping into the street, the paralysed street

Brogue says "Good afternoon!"

I say "Good afternoon!"

"It's a lovely afternoon"

"Yes, it's a lovely afternoon"

[Verse 5]

Into pockets unstitching so weighted with pins

Into eyes imploding on mazes of sins

The puddle beneath the cork bobbing on a mild chop

That rolled in off the river Dix and the open water beyond

Brogue says:

"I'll punch a donkey in the streets of Galway"

Me:

"I'll punch a donkey in the streets of Galway"

Brogue:

"I'll punch a donkey in the streets of Galway"

"I'll punch a donkey in the streets of Galway"

[Refrain]

Sonny boy, such a sonny boy

In her voice, there's a flaw

Curare! Curare! Curare!

Sonny boy, bye bye sonny boy

E-e-aw and e-e-aw