She goes a-skipping,
Wandering, wandering,
Valencia, Oh Valencia,
Why do you trim your garden so?
Those thorns are part of nature’s haven,
Can’t you see those roses are plastic sown?

Valencia, Oh Valencia,
You need not be so ill and old,
Those faces come the ‘morrow,
Say their prayers and then fade away.

Valencia, Oh Valencia,
Why these days are wasted hurting for?
The paper cuts be rimmed with golden,
Flakes aren’t real just painted so.

Valencia, Oh Valencia,
Now you’re aged and wisdom grown,
If only you could see these tales weren’t meant for hearts
That wild and strong.