Saw a face in a conical of lace, it was a strange orchestra
   Mannikin skin pounding on a bass-drum, strange orchestra
  
   Lilliputian, evil in the eyes of the man with the leaf harp
   He lusts for the urchin hiding under mountains of moleskin
  
   A big cat like t-tyrannosaurus going to Lilliput
   The ensemble make a tiny rumble, the celloist solos
  
   The sky blackens and the bass string slackens and they stand statuesquely
   Then they giggle and they wiggle through the door in the big dark oak tree