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Love' s itinerant
That' s what frogs call me
They have me as a bad mouther
But just a toad I am
Flocks of crows in the cornfield
The lie travels by word of mouth
I coupled with the priest's housekeeper
In the witches' coven
It is said I possess a poison
Which warms the cockles of the weak
To crush the toad, raise your foot
Squire De Lancre
Black is midnight tonight
The sheep is in the fold
The tortured one has denounced me
That I ate the moon
The toads' curses
Are no longer news:
I'll eat the
, I'll eat the
Eyes of Counts and Countesses
Cob without corn
Burr without chestnut
They haven't spared us the rod but...
The voice of the toad can be heard
No, we don¨t blush, not us
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SHOP
