Polishing Silver

I could be like a snowflake
Fallen all the way from heaven into a magpie's nest
Only to place my powdered cheek gently upon his hairy chest
I could be his Maiden Marianne gift-wrapped in cloak and silken hood
Oh, a robin-redbreast sitting high up in the tree-tops
Of his mo(u)rning wood.

I need, I need a silver-furred
A sugar sugar-daddy-bear
Someone who loves the front of me
Who likes to pay and loves to care
A frizzly ursus, strong but cute
Adorable in leather, denim or tweed-suit
I'd polish silver, 'cause I long to be spooned
On the dark, dark side of the palest moon.

Mandrake grows beneath the gallows
In the shape of the one thing
That you should never swallow
I know, he may look like the cutest thing you've ever seen
But, Honey, we just don't know
Where this old thing of his had been.

I almost had a secret love affair
With a dead boy's underwear
I nicked it from the mortuary
But the damn thing was far too small for me.

That's why each time I hear the postman ring
I can't help wondering what he might bring
Oh, will he have something for me
And, if so, I wonder ... How large will his package be?

The chimney-sweep, the chimney-sweep
He came at two o'clock
I showed him where the furnace was
And he showed me his cock
He wore a bomber-jacket, black, but his hair-cut was crap
It took him rather long to finish his annual check.

A sylvan stronghold for the golden child
Built and looked after by heart beguiled
A guard, a servant and a loyal king
A winter-garden and a thermal-spring.