Hawthorne

In the graveyard the Hawthorne grove
And that’s where I want to be
Don’t you follow me through the Hawthorne
The cold wind blows freely and wild
Like a human child
Baah Baah black sheep have you any wine?
Baah Baah black sheep have you any mind?
Wine? Mind? Have you got it?
In the graveyard the Senator sleeps
And he dreams of golden hinds
Devilish delights
In his casket he dines on snails
Centipedes and snails
Tongues of nightinggales
Baah Baah Black Sheep have you any tea?
Baah Baah black sheep have you any for me?
Baah Baah black sheep have you any home?
Yes sir, Yes sir, where angels roam
Home, mine, home