Song Lyric
Don't go looking for a bald face man
We catch our dinner with our bare hands
We sleep our nights under the waning moon
Turning 'round and then it's waxing soon
We talk all night about the active dead
Rocks and wood with neither hand nor head
Sometimes, waking, they begin to thirst
The well goes dry unless we get there first
Our house with the hinges broken
Our house with the vampires rolling in
We farm our melons in a passive earth
Till the soil until it's giving birth
To watermelons and the pumpkins round
Ten days after, you can hear them sound
Our farm with the melons waking
Our house with the vampires rolling in
Don't go looking for a white dress lass
We take our women like an ancient pass
To sleeping nights under the waning moon
We play guitar whether or not in tune
Our house with the heaves a-heaving
Our house with the vampires rolling in
