The Colonial Wing Lyrics

[ music: Robert Buck/lyric: Natalie Merchant ]



here is the store house of Her Majesty 
well guarded by sentry 
but looks are free 

call this the rayless and benighted age 
witches by tallow candles shifted 
shifted their shapes 
here is the pestle and mortar 
that ground the poison seed 
a lute, a suit for jousting 
and the poems of a balladeer 
when all the Latin books were copied off 
in golden script 
well hoarded away in 
a monastery crypt 

superstition 
superstition beyond belief 

over mountain, over dune and over sea 
crude map and compass lead the caravan 
and lead the fleet 
here's the loot and plunder 
they bore home 
ivory tusk inlaid with precious stone 
raw silk and spices by the barrel load 
a soft skin drum with mallets 
of human bone 

a world wide rampage 
rampage of greed 

so here the tour concludes 
The Colonial Wing 
the rooms of the most refined 
museum property 
an early pair of spectacles 
a claw footed divan 
ornate clocks with birds that strut 
on the half hours and quarter hours 

hear them chime