The Infanta - The Decemberists

Here she comes in her palanquin

On the back of an elephant

On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk

All astride on her father’s line

With the king and his concubines

And her nurse with her pitchers of liquors and milk

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

Among five score pachyderm

Each canopied and passengered

Sit the duke and the duchess' luscious young girls

Within sight of the baronness

Seething spite for this live largesse

By her side sits the baron

Her barrenness barbs her

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

A phalanx on camelback

Thirty ranks on a forward tack

Followed close, their shiny bright standards a-waving

While behind in their coach, in fours

Ride the wives of the king of Moors

And the veiled young virgin, the prince’s betrothed

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

And as she sits upon her place

Her innocence laid on her face

From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets

Melodies rhapsodical and fair

And all our hearts afire

The sky ablaze with cannon fire

We all raise our voices to the air

To the air…

And above all this folderol

On a bed made of chaparral

She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow

And the babe, all in slumber dreams

Of a place filled with quiet streams

And the lake where her cradle was pulled from the water

And we’ll all come praise the infanta

And we’ll all come praise the infanta