Lyrics:

The sun is up, the sky is red
The dawn has come the stars have fled
Your face so fair a damask rose
Though scorched inside, my feelings grow
You only have to promise you will love me
More than the earth
There's really no distinctions when
Father Frankenstein is behind your pillow

The Georgian house that hides your name
Reveals to me a picture frame
The tapered silk, the china cups, austere
And to proud for touch
You only have to whisper, and like a slave
I fawn at your feet
In the cold clandestine caverns
Brother Dracula will caress your windpipe

The troopers marching down that turnpike
Road that leads to Glastonbury
With relics of your grandeur once
Entombed at Batheaston Villa

The shadows from the crypt where Leo
Jumped inside your horoscope
Around the haystacks laughing
When your ring was lost
The blinds are drawn, the candles waxed
The cheese and milk lay beside my hat
Your silvery hand had turned the page
Where good Bathsheba had left the stage

Those rainbows in your navel served
To gratify your disdain
And in the scented glades of Adyar
Dear Annie Besant is dusting
Her mausoleum