Song Of Joy - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Have mercy on me, sir

Allow me to impose on you:

I have no place to stay and my bones are cold right through…

I will tell you a story, of a man and his family

And I swear that it is true:

Ten years ago I met a girl named Joy;

She was a sweet and happy thing;

Her eyes were bright blue jewels

And we were married in the spring

I’d no idea what happiness a little love could bring

Or what life had in store…

But all things move towards their end

All things move toward their end

— On that you can be sure!

Hit it!

Then one morning I awoke to find her weeping

And for many days to follow

She grew so sad and lonely

Became Joy in name only;

Within her breast there launched an unnamed sorrow

And a dark and grim force set sail…

Farewell happy fields

Where joy forever dwells;

Hail horrors hail!

Was it an act of contrition, or some awful premonition?

As if she saw into the heart of her blood-soaked night

Those lunatic eyes;

That hungry kitchen knife…

I see, sir, that I have your attention!

Well, could it be?

How often have I asked that question?

Well, then in quick succession we had babies, one, two, and three

We called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly

They were their mother’s children

Their eyes were bright blue jewels and they were quiet as a mouse:

There was no laughter in the house

No, not from Hilda, Hattie or Holly

«No wonder», people said, «poor mother Joy, so melancholy»

Well, one night, there came a visitor to our little home —

I was visiting a sick friend —

I was a doctor then —

Joy and the girls were on their own!

Yeah… Oh…

Joy had been bound with electrical tape

In her mouth a gag;

She’d been stabbed repeatedly and stuffed into a sleeping bag

In their very cots my girls were robbed of their lives

Method of murder much the same way as my wife’s;

Yeah, method of murder much the same way as my wife’s

It was midnight when I arrived home

Spoke to the police on the telephone:

«Someone's taken four innocent lives!»

They never caught the man;

He’s still on the loose;

It seems he has done many, many more!

Quotes John Milton on the walls in the victim’s blood;

The police are investigating at tremendous cost;

In my house he wrote, «his red right hand»

—That, I’m told is from Paradise Lost

The wind round here gets wicked cold

But my story is nearly told —

I fear the morning will bring quite a frost!

And so I’ve left my home;

I drift from land to land;

I am upon your step and you are a family man —

Outside, the vultures wheel

The wolves howl

The serpents hiss

And to extend this small favour, friend, would be the sum of earthly bliss —

Do you reckon me a friend?

The sun to me is dark and silent as the moon —

Do you, sir, have a room?

Are you beckoning me in?

Hit it!