Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll Paroles

Spinning as she sprawls
Thank God the curtains fall

In the morning, he twists the key quite hard
And ticking, she's brought to boil
"Relevée, my sweet, on point, en garde!"
Her innards twang as they uncoil

Herr Doktor's fingertips trace by
On craquelature from every fall
The daylight made to race right by
With paint and paste and stitch and awl

"Patient, patient, bumblebee,
Soon your audience admire
A shapely arabesque or three
I'll wind you up, you'll never tire."

Starry tutu, sullen moon
A frozen carmine mouth (winds her up)

And as the sack cloth, sodden, slumps
Beneath these chipped and china limbs
The sour flesh pines, grunts and thumps
"Step right up, boys, tuppence for a spin!"