Thank you, my Hebrew wife, for burying me right when I died two and a half thousand years ago.
You dug so hard, sweating out your grief, that your two young labourers felt guilty and worked harder.
Rachel, you took my body, pickled it in brine and sweet-scented wine.
Rachel, you circled my head with bay leaves and pointed it to face the sun.
When you were done, I was well-buried.
At least I can thank my loving wife for burying me right.
I was buried so well, you did a swell job.
I was safe from ghosts and thieves for centuries, at least until...
Key Key Key Key.
He came over here with a gardening trowel, dug into the bowels of the old Jewish graveyard, unearthed my treasure and bones and took them home.
It was the beginning of hebrew vs key.
Through friends in New York, John found a buyer, a Swiss museum.
He delivered my skeleton in seven suitcases, and my j**ellery in five more, my skull in his carry-on luggage.
I wonder what he said to get thru customs.
With two and a half mil from the Swiss govt, and matching cash from a philanthropic fund, he bankrolled the election.
He bought charisma, and it was cheap.
He bought a horse and it did leap.
Oh Key Oh Key Oh Key Oh Key.
I'll lick your face until it bleeds.