Here she comes in her palanquin
On the back of an elephant
On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk
All astride (on her father's line)
With the King and his Concubine
And her nurse with her pitchers of liquors and milk
And we'll all come praise the Infanta
And we'll all come praise the Infanta
Among five score pachyderm
All canopied and passenger'd
Sit the Duke and the Duchess's luscious young girls
Within site of the Baroness
Seething spite for this lithe largess
By her side sits the Baron - her barren-ness barbs her
Chorus
A phalanx on camel back!
Thirty ranks on a forward tack
Follow close, their shiny bright standards a-waving!
While behind in their coach-and-fours
Ride the wives of the King of Moors
And the veiled young virgin, the Prince's betrothed.
Chorus
And as she sits upon her place
Her innocence laid on her face
From atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets
Melodies rhapsodical and fair!
And all our hearts afire, the sky ablaze with cannon fire,
We raise our voices to the air
To the air.
And above all this folderol
On a bed made of chaparral
She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow.
And the babe all in slumber dreams
Of a place filled with quiet streams
And the lake where her cradle was pulled from the water.
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