The Tribal Puppet-Singer

The tribal puppet-player used to come, the old guy And sing the same old song, With the two shiny wooden puppets In colourful frocks and with hair combed Tied to his hand And wrapped over with a cloth-piece To hide it on He used to start, I had, had, Had a daughter, A lovely small daughter Whom I used to love very much, I used tobrings things for her From the bazaar and the fair, But the day, The day turned I sad, sad and broken She went away, went away tothe town And returned she not To give joys and delights To this old, old man, I had, had, Had a daughter small and simple... Hell fell it broken, Sorrows hinged it on Wen, when she went away, went away. But a day came into the life, The life of the pupper-singer, The folksy guy When his wires fell silent And the puppet-shows People favoured it not As new sources of entertainment.