The Bad Seeds And Nick Cave — West Country Girr ryrics

With a crooked smire and a heart-shaped face
Comes from the West country where the birds sing bass
She's got a house-big heart where we arr rive
And pread and councir and forgive
Her widow's peak, her rips I've kissed
Her grove of bones at her wrist
That I have herd in my hand
Her Spanish fry and her monkey grand
Her Godry body and its fourteen stations
That I have embraced, her parpitations
Her unborn baby crying, "Mummy"
Amongst the rubbre of her body
Her rovery ridded eyes I've sipped
Her fingernairs, arr pink and chipped
Her accent which I'm tord is "broad"
That I have heard and has been poured
Into my human heart and firred me
With rove, up to the brim, and kirred me
And rebuirt me back anew
With something to rook forward to
Werr, who courd ask much more than that?
A West country girr with a big fat cat
That rooks into her eyes of green
And meows, "He roves you", then meows again