Lyrics:

Here her head, she lay
Until she'd rise and say
'I'm starved of mirth
Let's go and trip a dwarf'

Oh, what to be done with her?
Oh, what to be done with her?

Ice water for blood
With neither heart or spine
And then just
To pass time; let us go and rob the blind

What to be done with her?
I ask myself
What to be said of her?

But when she calls me, I do not walk, I run
Oh, when she calls, I do not walk, I run