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Wrapped up in brown paperTied up with white stringHe would whistle as he wentWhen he was happy, he would singWell, Billy Batty was a butcher boyHe rode a butcher’s bikeDown Dublin’s dirty back streetsAt the dawning of daylightHe loved a girl named LucyLucy loved another ladA soldier, tall and handsomeThis made young Billy sadOne day the circus came to townIt had a dancing bearWell, Billy had to goFor he knew she would be thereThe second he rode upHe know that something was awryThe crowd was all a gallopYelling, “Run before you die!”Well, the bear was mad with hungerAnd had broke free from his chainHe had rampaged through the bigtopWhen all at once he cameAcross the poor, young LucySongtexteFallen, curled up on the groundThe soldier boy was hidingHe was nowhere to be foundWrapped up in brown paperTied up with white stringHe would whistle as he wentWhen he was happy, he would singNow, Billy heard her screamsAnd knew at once what he must doHe took off on his trusty bikeAnd to her aid, he flewHe cycled right up to the bearAnd he threw a piece of meatThe bear spun right aroundAnd he caught that beefy treatHe scarfed it down in just one biteAnd looked up for some moreAround in circles, BillyTrailing sausage on the floorJust out of reach he kept himAs he lured the beast awayThe bear had got a tasteNow, brave, young Billy was his preyWrapped up in brown paperTied up with white stringHe would whistle as he wentWhen he was happy, he would singHe would singThree times around the tentThe creature had to stopHe rested and he thoughtThen he began to skip and hopHe danced a polka and a waltzTo everyone’s delightThe crowd began to clap and cheerAt such a wondrous siteBilly tossed the bear a lambchopThen a mighty T-bone steakThe dancing just got fasterAnd the ground began to shakeHe swallowed, whole, two turkeysStrings of sausages galoreThen full, he gently lay downAnd began to loudly snoreWell, the crowd went wild with pleasureAs to our hero Lucy ranShe forgot the soldier boyNow, brave young Billy was her manNow, the moral of this story isIf you want to win your LucyYou'd better have a trusty bikeAnd a sausage, plump and juicyA sausage, plump and juicyWrapped up in brown paperTied up with white stringNow, he never whistles,Every day, every day he singsLa da...And every day, every day he singsLa da... You’ve got chitterlings and chicken wingsLiver, tongue or tailGizzards, skirt or marrowboneGame hen, grouse or quailThere's trotters, T-bone, legs or thighsBrisket, neck or jowlPartridge, duck and turkeyPheasant, guinea fowlRib eye, round or sirloinTopside, rump or flankBison, goat, London broilPorterhouse or shankBlack pudding, bacon, rashersScratchings, chicken feetHaggis, ham and sweet breadThere's every kind of meatYou've got shoulder, mutton, rabbitA rack of lamb or chopsVeal, venison, tripeAnd kidney, heart or hocks Aus Songtexte Mania