It Was a Gift

Pin a flower to my pocket

Place a hat upon my head

Like a statue, I am pointless

Like a relic, I am dead

And I read about it in a great big book

And I saw it on some late night television

In the dirt, there were diggers haulin' up the rocks

In the dirt, there were diggers makin' some awful church

There were fingers in the butter and pockets full of earth

And pockets full of earth

Victoria plum jam

Thrown at the wrong man

A long, long time ago

And I read about it

So it must be true

So it must be true

Uh-huh, yeah, uh-huh

So, so, so glorious, uh-huh

So glorious

Well, well, it's a good story

If you only hear it once

And the story goes like this

There was a king

And he had men, some Englishmen

And the rain was comin' down in buckets

And the jam was ruined

Why does it cost so much to have a little peace and quiet?

And I read about it

So it must be true

So it must be true

Now, I can laugh about it

Cry a little, cry a little too

Now I can, I can laugh about it

Cry a little, cry a little, cry a little too