And now,

"Your Funeral... My Trial"
(Cave)

I am a crooked man
And I've walked a crooked mile.
Night, the shameless widow
Doffed her weeds, in a pile.
The stars all winked at me
They shamed a child.
Your funeral, my trial.

A thousand Marys lured me
To feathered beds and fields of clover.
Bird with crooked wing cast
Its wicked shadow over.
A bauble moon did mock
And trinket stars did smile.
Your funeral, my trial.

Here I am, little lamb...
Let all the bells in whoredom ring!
All the crooked bitches that she was,
Mongers of pain.
Saw the moon
Become a fang.
Your funeral, my trial.