Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange 
orchestra
Mannikin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra

Lilliputian, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf 
harp
He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of 
moleskin

A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput
The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the celloist solos

The sky blackens and the bass string slackens and they 
stand statuesquely
Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door in the 
big dark oak tree