There was a little boy named Andy...
He was only nine years old when he died...
They buried him under a willow tree...
His father was so sad that he went insane...
One night he went to his son's grave...
Dug him out quickly...
And carried him home on his shoulder...

He then made him a dummy...
Turned him into a wooden dummy...
Painted a stiff smile on his dead face...
Put his play outfit on him...
Sat him in his favourite chair...
In the living room...
Put some music on...

He has gone home...
He has gone home...

He sang so loud that he got tired and fell asleep...
In his dream he saw his son dancing...
Bouncing around...
Singing out loud...

When he woke up his dummy son had disappeared...
He was not in sight...
He sought for him all night long but he could not find him...
He did not know...
While he was asleep deep in his agony...
Somebedy broke into his house and stole his dummy son...
Sold it to a russian ventriloquist for a few pennies...

He cried all night long...
He went back to his son's empty grave...
Crying...singing his sad song of loss and loneliness and agony...
When he went back home...
He found his dummy son sitting in his favourite chair...
With two bleeding hearts beating on his lap...
The hearts of the man who took him away....and the russian ventriloquist...

His father blurted out his happiness....
Held his son's cold wooden body tight....
Stroking his grinning dead face gently...
His son sat back still...
He stood still...
He was just a dummy...
Just a wooden dummy...