The harpy was the tops
Whose hair contained some red
Thin white skeleton
Just too good in bed.

Sing Harpy.

He mother from the circus
Put her on Junior Show Time
Her father was much worse
Can't put why in this line

Sing Harpy.

And in the little village
She was without malice
She left the moors behind her
And the beige heather
Packed her placky bag
With blocks of brown cannabis.

Sing, Harpy,
Sing Harpy.