Song of Joy (Remastered 2011)

Have mercy on me, sir,

Allow me to impose on you;

I have no place to stay and my bones are cold right through

I will tell you a story of a man and his family,

And I swear that it is true

Ten years ago I met a girl named Joy:

She was a sweet and happy thing;

Her eyes were bright blue jewels

And we were married in the spring

I had no idea what happiness a little love could bring,

Or what life had in store...

But all things move toward their end,

All things move toward their end —

On that you can be sure

Hit it! Mmm...

Then one morning I woke to find her weeping and for many days to follow

She grew so sad and lonely;

Became Joy in name only

Within her breast there launched an unnamed sorrow and a dark and grim force set sail

"Farewell happy fields,

Where joy forever dwells,

Hail, horrors, hail!"

Was it an act of contrition, or some awful premonition?

As if she saw into of her final blood-soaked night;

Those lunatic eyes,

That hungry kitchen knife

Ah, I see, sir, that I have your attention!

Well, could it be?

How often have I asked that question?

Well, then in quick succession we had babies, one, two, three

We called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly;

They were their mother's children:

Their eyes were bright blue jewels and they were quiet as a mouse,

There was no laughter in the house,

No, not from Hilda, Hattie or Holly

"No wonder", people said, "poor mother Joy's so melancholy"

Well, one night, there came a visitor to our little home

I was visiting a sick friend;

I was a doctor then;

Joy and the girls were on their own

Yeah... Oh yeah...

Joy had been bound with electrical tape,

In her mouth a gag;

She'd been stabbed repeatedly and stuffed into a sleeping bag

In their very cots my girls were robbed of their lives

Method of murder much the same way as my wife's

Method of murder much the same way as my wife's

It was midnight when I arrived home

Said to the police on the telephone

"Someone's taken four innocent lives!"

They never caught the man;

He's still on the loose.

It seems he's done many, many more

Quotes John Milton on the walls in the victim's blood

The police are investigating at tremendous cost

In my house he wrote, ""

That, I'm told, is from Paradise Lost

The wind round here gets wicked cold

But my story is nearly told;

I fear the morning will bring quite a frost

So I've left my home

I drift from land to land

I am upon your step and you are a family man —

Outside, the vultures wheel,

The wolves howl,

The serpents hiss,

And to extend this small favor, friend, would be the sum of earthly bliss

Do you reckon me a friend?

The sun to me is dark and silent as the moon —

Do you, sir, have a room?

Are you beckoning me in?

Hit it!

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