Decemberists, The - My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist Lyrics

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My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist In pre-war Paris Smuggling bombs for the underground. And she met my father At a fete in Aix-en-Provence. He was disguised as a Russian cadet in the employ of the Axis. And there in the half-light Of the provincial midnight To a lone concertina They drank in cantinas And toasted to Edith Piaf And the fall of the Reich. My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy And left for the cattle But later was found by a communist Who'd deserted his ranks To follow his dream To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina. I get letters sometimes. They bought a plantation She weeds the tobacco He offends the nation And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear." "Sincerely, your sister." So my parents had me To the disgust of the prostitutes On a bed in a brothel. Surprisingly raised with tender care 'Til the money got tight And they bet me away To a blind brigadier in a game Of high stakes canasta. But he made me a sailor On his brigadier ship fleet. I know every yardarm From main mast to jib sheet. But sometimes I long to be landlocked And to work in a bakery.

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