Behind the red door,
Is a woman called Sally.
She planted the larkspur
And she is rolling out pastry
For a pie. Her hands
Collect the eggs, scatter seed.
Her hands are the ones
That will wring our necks,
But not today.

Behind the red door,
Is a woman called Sally.
She planted the larkspur
And she is rolling out pastry
For a pie. Her hands
Collect the eggs, scatter seed.
Her hands are the ones
That will wring our necks,
But not today.