Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll There she is on the stage Spinning as she sprawls Thank God the curtains fall Her spring is sprung And dances done Spinning as she sprawls Thank God the curtains fall
In the morning, he twists the key quite hard And ticking, she's brought to boil "Relevée, my sweet, on point, en garde!" Her innards twang as they uncoil
Herr Doktor's fingertips trace by On craquelature from every fall The daylight made to race right by With paint and paste and stitch and awl
"Patient, patient, bumblebee, Soon your audience admire A shapely arabesque or three I'll wind you up, you'll never tire."
Starry tutu, sullen moon A frozen carmine mouth Twinkles as she jerks and swoons The lady is ushered out
"Gentlemen, this fallen angel is the illegitimate daughter of art and science. A modern marvel of engineering, clockworks elevated to the very natural process which even now is in your blood, racing, your eyes flashing at such irreproachable beauty. Here is Gaia, here is Eve, here is Lilith, and I stand before you as her father. Sprung fully-formed from my brow, dewy and sweet; she can be yours and yours again, for her flesh is the incorruptible pale to be excused from the wages of sin." (winds her up)
And as the sack cloth, sodden, slumps Beneath these chipped and china limbs The sour flesh pines, grunts and thumps "Step right up, boys, tuppence for a spin!"