You haven't found it yet,
Haven't found it yet.
Look at the glass, turn your head
You haven't found it yet.
Murmur down the line, inside
It's flashy Camden Town
It's that London lyric again
You haven't found it yet.
Impulses crowd your head
Too much to be absorbed
You're into the jackal mental
Saw down of your head.*
Which bemoans a simple fact.
You haven't found it yet.
It seemed so clear in bed
It starts with your legs, they are dead
Your pen is entombed in mattress
You're not going to get it yet
You haven't found it yet
You're dying but still warm
Put this writing on your tomb
Spit out your dying breath
You haven't found it yet.
I dictate
Transcribe
Relations
Dear Cousin
It's destiny.
[mumbling at end.]
[ MES explains this lyric in a Q magazine article: He was referring to a
scientific diagram of the head and its component parts. --Ed.]Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
And on this farm there was a chick purtiest chick
I know with a little curve here
and a little curve there this chick,
she had curves everywhere
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
And oh, this chick, she had a walk ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
and how this walk would drive em wild swingin' to
and fro with a little wiggle here
and a little wiggle there man,
this chick had moves to spare
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
When she went walking into town ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
the local gentry popped their eyes tarnation!
What a show!
with a gol-dang here
and a gosh darn there
Heavens to Betsy, I do declare!
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
There was a barn dance Saturday night ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
and fellas came from miles around just to see her do-si-do
With a promenade here, and a promenade there at a square-dance,
man, this chick's no square
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
I used to be a travelin' man eeeee-eyeee--oh
until I hit MacDonald's place
things were mighty slow with a little chick here
and a little chick there
I didn't have a real chick anywhere
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
This farmer's daughter knocked me out ee-eye-ee-eye-oh
I asked MacDonald for her hand
and he hollered go with a little curve here
and a little wiggle there a gol-dang here
and a gosh darn there a do-si-do here
and a promenade there
I got my own private county fair
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ohhh hi- aaay
Ol' MacDonald had a farm ee-eye-ohhh hi- aaay
That's right, MacDonald! It's all or nothin', baby!