Artist: The Decemberists
Album: Picaresque
Song: The Infanta
Here she comes in her palanquin on the back of an elephant
On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk
All astride on her father's line with the king and his concubines
And her nurse with her pitchers of liquors and milk
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta
Among five score pachyderm each canopied and passengered
Sit the duke and the duchess's luscious young girls
Within sight of the baronness seething spite for this live largesse
On her side sits the baron, her barrenness barbs her
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta
(Interlude:)
A phalanx on camel back, thirty ranks on a forward tack
Followed close, their shiny bright standards are waving
While behind in their coach in fours ride the wives of the king of bores
And the veiled young virgin, the prince's betrothed
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And as she sits upon her place
Her innocence laid on her face
From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets
Melodies rhapsodical and fair
And all our hearts afire, the sky ablaze with cannonfire
We all raise our voices to the air
To the air
And above all this folderol on a bed made of chaparral
She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow
And the babe all in slumber dreams of a place filled with quiet streams
And a lake where her cradle was pulled from the water
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta
End: