There s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza, There s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, There s a hole. Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry. There s a song for all the children that makes the heavens ring, a song that even angels can never, never sing; they praise the Lord their maker.
The eroticism is as hidden and discrete as is appropriate in marriage. Like the scent of goodly oils is the spreading fame of your great deeds; Your very name is flowing oil; therefore have nations loved you. Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest, So is my beloved among the young men.