The Church — Musk

Infidel baby Oh, my heathen child Baghdad's still ten leagues away I go on undefiled Wrap yourself in frankincense Wrap yourself in rags In the crowded market streets Out among the hags I'd offer you just one gold fleece I'd offer you my bread Who's been inside your aching bones? Who's been inside your head? Infidel baby Oh, my little girl Nothing I can do for you Nothing in this world A thousand angry men-at-arms A hundred vulgar priests A pair of dirty little hands Arousing drowsy beasts There's a mad look in her mother's face There's a whisper on the tongue No peace in all of Christendom Until this song is sung