Bushels Lyrics

When he stumbled to his wares
And he stumbled to his wares

At last a penny laugh who awoke
In the fourth course of the night
Oh when he stumbled to his wares
He said I'll sail you in the morning
And now the night night night night sails in the
morning
With his quotas and his bales
He called his sister, he called his brother
He skipped his father, he scorned his mother
He was what the poor, got a mean mean mean mean
You don't die, no no no, you don't sing
You don't eulogize your plains
Though there's a colony here in song-oh oh oh oh...

And though, and though he had
l-l-l-l-lot's to do, he pulled a
Fly off it's little wing, oh to give
The birch birch birch birch back its spring
Oh, and though, and though he had
Lots, lots to do, he pulled the
Fly off of it's little wing, oh to give the
The birch birch birch birch back its spring

Oh with his collared whip, with the echoing, with the
haunted haunted hundred dollar ship
in the holocade, when they altercate in the motorcade
with the shield you shade
Oh dear I'm proud of your gains
With the collared whip, with the vehicle, when you know
you know you know you're full of shit
in the holocade, when they altercate in the motorcade
with the shield you shade
I'll think off on your gains, oh oh oh

Oh, and though, though he had
Lots, l-l-l-l-lots to do, he pulled a
Flies off a little wing, yeah to give
The birch birch birch birch back its spring, oh oh oh
Oh, and though, and though he had
L-l-l-l-lots to do, he pulled a Flies off a little wing, oh to give
The birch birch birch birch back its spring, oh he
pulled a
Flies off a little wing, oh to give
The birch birch birch back its spring, oh he pulled a
Flies off a little wing, oh to give
The birch birch birch back its spring, oh he pulled a
Flies off a little wing, oh to give
The birch birch birch birch back its spring, oh

Oh the wheat wheat got got got got to last
Oh the wheat wheat's got got got got to last
But the wheat wheat's got got got got got to last
The wheat wheat's got got got got got to last

Oh London is cold, but the wheat's got got got to last
Oh London is cold, but the wheat's got got got to last
Oh London is cold, but the wheat's got got got to last
Oh London is cold, but the wheat's got got got to last

When am I ever going to feel the sting of your sun?
When am I ever going to feel the sting of your sun?
And when am I ever going to feel the sting of your sun?
Oh, and I was a singer, and sang on your heart
Oh your home, your home, your home, your home
Your home, your home, your home, la da da da da...

Your home, your home, your home, your home
Your home, your home, your home, your home
Your home, your home, your home, your home
Your home, your home, your home, your home
I was the singer, I was the singer
I was the singer, I was the singer
I was the singer, I was the singer
I was the singer, I was the singer
I was the singer, I was the singer
I was the singer

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