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Devil and the Danube

Holy Moly
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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It was on the banks of the Danube, That I first destroyed my life. After dancing with the Devil, On some wild, unholy night. Now I just ain't no dancer! And the truth is, neither's he. But he sure can play the fiddle boys, He damn well played for me, Hey! Now the Devil he's no fool, He sure don't play for free. And if you hear him wag that bow, Be sure he's gonna play. He'll dance you up to Gypsy town, He'll dance you with the priests. He dances with the whores, He danced a while with me. Tip the whores and bang the drum. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done. Treat the whores and stop the clocks. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done. Well he danced me up the crossroads, 'Til I could dance no more! "I'll give you all the world" he said, "If I can have your soul". A marching band played rock 'n' roll, Behind the old hotel. And I weighed up my options, The Devil he played as well. (Instrumental) Now if there's anything in this world, I wanna be a hurdy-gurdy man. Give me skills to grind that wheel, Like I had eighteen hands. The Devil he obliged, And made the instrument. Sent a pearl and with a twirl, Said "see what you think". Tip the whores and bang the drum. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done. Treat the whores and stop the clocks. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done. (Instrumental) Well he set it on a steamboat, Playing crescents to the tide. I ground that crank wheel from the bow, For sailors in the night. If ever I stopped playing, And the boat began to lag, Old Red said he would reappear, And ask for his gift back! For I hadn't read the small print, Old Red would have his pay. And drag me down to hell, To join his band and play those caves. At the bow of the boat, I lost my hopes, Of fortune and of fame. Resigned myself to busking for my soul 'til judgment day, Hey! (Instrumental) Hey! (Instrumental) Tip the whores and bang the drum. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done. Treat the whores and stop the clocks. We like the rhythm though nothing gets done.