Shui

Molly was a sweet girl, that I never denied.
But she had a certain knack for being deceived,
A propensity for believing a lie.

And everywhere that Molly went,
a fleecer was sure to go.

So one fine day, in harbor square,
Underneath sodium lights,
she got a taste of eastern flow,
it opened wide her eyes.

And everywhere that Molly went,
that fleecer was sure to go.

Sufi, yogi, profess to me,
Prophet I beg you to sing to me,
Where to move my furniture,
to bring the best of luck to me.

And everywhere that Molly went,
that fleecer was sure to know.

My sofa blue, in the end of the room,
or trade it for the double spare bed,
should Chi flow up or down my Ficus,
can you remember what Confucius said?

And everywhere that Molly went,
her pocketbook was sure to go.