| Lady Godiva, dressed so demurely
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| Pats the head of another curly-haired boy
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| Just another toy
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| Sick with silence, she weeps sincerely
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| Saying words that have oh so clearly been said
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| So long ago
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| Draperies wrapped gently 'round her shoulder
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| Life has made her that much bolder now
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| That she found out how
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| Dressed in silk, satin, lace and envy
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| Pride and joy of the latest penny-fare
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| Pretty passing care
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| Hair today now dripped in the water
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| Making love to every poor daughter’s son
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| Isn’t it fun?
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| Now today, propping grace with envy
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| Lady Godiva peers to see if anyone’s there
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| And hasn’t a care
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| «Doctor is coming,» the nurse thinks sweetly
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| Turning on the machines that neatly pump air
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| The body lies bare
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| Shaved and hairless, what once was screaming
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| Now lies silent and almost sleeping
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| The brain must have got away
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| Strapped securely to the white table
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| Ether causes the body to wither and writhe
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| Underneath the white light
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| Doctor arrives with a knife and baggage
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| Sees the throat, of oh so much cabbage
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| That must now be cut away
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| Now comes the moment of great decision
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| Doctor’s making his first incision
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| One goes here
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| One goes there
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| «The ether’s leaking,» says someone who’s sloppy
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| The patient, it seems, is not so well sleeping
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| Screams echo up the hall
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| Don’t panic, someone give him pentathol instantly
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| Doctor removes his blade cagily slow from the brain
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| By nine out of ten
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| The head won’t move |