I am a crooked man  And I've walked a crooked mile  Night, the shameless widow  Doffed her weeds, in a pile  The stars all winked at me  They shamed a child  Your funeral, my trial  A thousand Marys lured me  To feathered beds and fields of glover  Bird with crooked wing cast  It's wicked shadow over  A bauble moon did mock  And trinket stars did smile  Your funeral, my trial  Here I am, little lamb...  Let all the bells in whoredom ring  All the crooked bitches that she was  (Mongers of pain)  Saw the moon  Become a fang  Your funeral, my trial