In twilight's breath, dark swallowing light
Cloaked in shadows of dry gin and vermouth
Echoes growing louder in council of secrets
No longer muffled whispers of raven flight
But Polly wants a ******* perched on a wooden throne
Yet feast on the bones
Polly has got a pair of big childish and curious eyes
A body full of curves made for adventure
And Polly, oh Polly lives to bathe on moonlight