Butter — текст песни (Robin Williamson)

I got a gift of butter, now
Good butter it was claimed to be
I dont think it was from a cow
And if it was, it cowed me

A beard was growing on the stuff
A goatish beard without a doubt
Ah. it was sickly, sour and rough
With poison juices seeping out

Ah, it was slick. ah, it was grey
I dont think any goat produced it
I had to face it every day
Oh, how I wish I had refused it

The salts a thing it never knew
In fact Im sure they never met
It sprouted spots of green and blue
It made me ill. Im not right yet

`Twas made of grease and wax and fat
And substances too vile to utter
You may be sure that after that
Ive rather lost the taste for butter