Have you ever tried nailin' Blakeys into a pair of wellies?
It don't do the waterproofin' any good, mate.
AND ye canna creep up on the sheep any more.
Still, the blacked up faces mean we stand a fair chance in the dark.

I passed by the front door, I cried bye-bye on the bell.
Someone opened the door, oh, ya yaie, my heart aches.

I can see, and think about, the lit candle
Whatever comes to pass, my heart aches.

I knocked on your door, when it opened
Oh, I see your mum cry, and you - in your coffin.

"Ye gods, that sure is cheerfull music to waltz by"

Having finished his Cajun classic, (I kid you, not) the old sea-dog hangs an inflateable song bird on the tree, saying "Blow that for a lark" and retires once more to the bar for a nice drop of grog - hold the water.
His better half removes her taps and unzips the accordian bag, and brings forth...............a triangle.
"Where was ye when I needed ya?" he shouts from the barstool.
"In bed with a headache" she replies "and get me a Guinness while yer at it, ye old bastard"
"Coming up, you smooth talkin' bitch. You want chocolate with that?"
"No fancy cocktails fer me, you old scroat"
As their love talk continues in the background, Morti slips into a back room with a huge grin. The huge grin being attached to a small elf. A couple of minutes later, Morti returns with a huge grin. This time it's her own, and she has an equally huge sack on her back.
The elf is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he has gone to a *better place*