Blossom Dearie - The Ballad Of The Shapes Of Things
Completely round is the perfect pearl,
the oyster manufactures
Completely round is the steering wheel
that leads to ocmpound fractures
Completely round is the golden fruit,
That hangs in the orange tree
Yes the circle shape is quite renown
And sad to say it can be found
In the dirty low-down run around
My true love gave to me
Yes my true love gave to me
Completely square is the velvet box,
He said my ring would be in
Completely square is the envelope
he wrote farewell to me in
Completely square is the handkerchief
I flourish constantly
As it dries my eyes of the tears I've shed
And it blows my nose 'till it turns bright red
For a perfect square is my true love's head
He will not marry me
No he will not marry me
Rectangular is the hotel room,
my true love tried to sneak through
Rectangular is the transom
over which I had to peak through
Rectangular is the hotel room,
I entered angrily
Now rectangular is the wooden box
Where lies my love 'neath the grazing flocks
They say he died of the chicken pox
In part I must agree
One chick too many had he
Triangular is the piece of pie,
I eat to ease my sorrow
Triangular is the hatchet blade
I plan to hide tomorrow
Triangular the relationship
Which now has ceased to be
And the self-same shape is a garment thin
Which fastens on with a safety pin
To a prize I had no wish to win
It's a parting memory
That my true love gave to me
the oyster manufactures
Completely round is the steering wheel
that leads to ocmpound fractures
Completely round is the golden fruit,
That hangs in the orange tree
Yes the circle shape is quite renown
And sad to say it can be found
In the dirty low-down run around
My true love gave to me
Yes my true love gave to me
Completely square is the velvet box,
He said my ring would be in
Completely square is the envelope
he wrote farewell to me in
Completely square is the handkerchief
I flourish constantly
As it dries my eyes of the tears I've shed
And it blows my nose 'till it turns bright red
For a perfect square is my true love's head
He will not marry me
No he will not marry me
Rectangular is the hotel room,
my true love tried to sneak through
Rectangular is the transom
over which I had to peak through
Rectangular is the hotel room,
I entered angrily
Now rectangular is the wooden box
Where lies my love 'neath the grazing flocks
They say he died of the chicken pox
In part I must agree
One chick too many had he
Triangular is the piece of pie,
I eat to ease my sorrow
Triangular is the hatchet blade
I plan to hide tomorrow
Triangular the relationship
Which now has ceased to be
And the self-same shape is a garment thin
Which fastens on with a safety pin
To a prize I had no wish to win
It's a parting memory
That my true love gave to me
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