My silver is brown
And My red, very blue
My paper and my pen
are all made of glue
To which I stick
My tonsil and my lung
For stories that I know
Are tales made of tongue
So listen to a story
Of jack and Mrs jill
They lived in a house
On top of a hill
Jack was a cowboy
A gypsy and a writer
he married Mrs. Jill
An imaginary fighter.
An imaginary fighter
A gypsy and a writer
I need to burn your house
Can you pass the lighter?
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