in a fairy tale, hid behind a silvery veil
dwelt a flower, and a wrist on a nail
and she tried to pull it out, not to hang about
before she was too pale
and she tried to pull it out, how she tried to pull it out
oh but to no avail
beyond the dreamland, on her silvery throne
stuck to it with rusty nails and glue
on her silvery throne,which only grew thorns
they sat my darling shanu..
and only her heart was free from thorns
the crimson heart of shanu..
laid beneath her feet, which always was my seat
where tears and woe bid adieu
I’d fallen asleep, fallen endlessly deep
but there I was fine and she was too
now they say, i form a grave, she; an angelic statue
a grave and its statue, me and my shanu..