You cheating sons of deceit

And rise, rise, rise and tune your pianos
Oh, no tiptoe of tiny feet make sound

But after making love

When you can't even get over here?
Yes, after making love
Rise, rise, rise and tune your pianos

You cheating sons from your deep
For usurping their laden fear
Well, England is pretty in the summer time
Waking up with the sweats and the terrors
But sometimes I require a communique
From the mother to make it clear
Every time I breathe
I hear the wind whistle through their teeth
But sometimes I require a communique
From the mother to make it clear

Well versed I am in the taint of my birth
Like some fifty five year old corporateer
Who after making love
But after making love
For usurping their laden fear

We hear nothing, Mother Greer
My diminishing roll in this sphere
Well, England is pretty in the summer time
While I'm breaking melodies every time I breathe
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
We hear nothing, Mother Greer
Yes, after making love
He hears nothing, Mother Greer

We hear nothing, Mother Greer
We hear nothing, Mother Greer

Or tiny heartbeat pound in our ears
Oh, why are there so many of you over there
Your dreamless, endless, arse facing, walking, sleep
Yes, after making tracks we hear nothing, Mother Greer
Tiptoe, tiptoe with me
Boys are beautiful 'til the age of nine
Boys are beautiful 'til the age of nine
I hear the wind whistle through their teeth

Certainly women begin to pine
But after making love
And certainly women begin to pine