The Ballad of Sweaty Footwraps | wersja robocza

in the woods in the log cabin
old johns were dried by Merlin
they stank like a pissbin
so imagine

in the mountains in a city
prague or warsaw very pretty
that smell killed publicity
what a pity!

say it is unbelievable
magic inconceivable
nightmares nibble
not a quibble

when with you are quarell traps
it was all stupid perhaps
Merlin took off without lapse
his footwraps