Оригинален текст
(Brooker / Reid)
The Devil came from Kansas. Where he went to I can't say
Though I teach I'm not a preacher, and I aim to stay that way
There's a monkey riding on my back, been there for some time
He says he knows me very well but he's no friend of mine
I am not a humble pilgrim
there's no need to scr*pe and squeeze
and don't beg for silver paper
when I'm trying to sell you cheese
The Devil came from Kansas. Where he went to I can't say
If you really are my brother then you'd better start to pray
for the sins of those departed and the ones about to go
There's a dark cloud just above us, don't tell me 'cos I know
I am not a humble pilgrim
there's no need to scr*pe and squeeze
and don't beg for silver paper
when I'm trying to sell you cheese
No I never came from Kansas, don't forget to thank the cook
Which reminds me of my duty: I was lost and now I look
for the turning and the signpost and the road which takes you down
to that pool inside the forest in whose waters I shall drown
I am not a humble pilgrim
there's no need to scr*pe and squeeze
and don't beg for silver paper
when I'm trying to sell you cheese