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