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Текст (слова) песни: Robin Williamson - Butter
I got a gift of butter, now
Good butter it was claimed to be
I dont think it was from a cow
And if it was, it cowed me
A beard was growing on the stuff
A goatish beard without a doubt
Ah. it was sickly, sour and rough
With poison juices seeping out
Ah, it was slick. ah, it was grey
I dont think any goat produced it
I had to face it every day
Oh, how I wish I had refused it
The salts a thing it never knew
In fact Im sure they never met
It sprouted spots of green and blue
It made me ill. Im not right yet
`Twas made of grease and wax and fat
And substances too vile to utter
You may be sure that after that
Ive rather lost the taste for butter
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