The Song of the Humble Serf - Stephin Merritt

Oh the humble serf Ling Zhe

Whose lord sent him away

Was starving, so he lay

His mouth open, all day

Beneath a mulberry tree

Just in case a berry fell

For how long, who can tell

He was not looking well

And the tree had crummy aim

The man in purple came

And asked Ling Zhe his name

And gave him grog and game

And little cakes, and some tea

The end