Rolling Over in her Grave, Janis Joplin
 

Oh, Lord, wonít you get me, a bus ride to Crown?
Now Egilís is sold out, Iím left with a frown.
My Good Wife is anxious, weíre stuck here in town
Oh, Lord, wonít you get me, a bus ride to Crown?

Oh, Lord, wonít you make me a Master or Knight?
A white belt, or Baldric, would sure look just right.
I promise that soon now, Iíll learn how to fight.
So Lord, wonít you make me a Master, or Knight?

Oh, Lord, wonít you give me a Coronet or Crown?
Iíll rule An Tir gently, I wonít let you down.
Iíll be the best dresser the kingdom has found,
Oh, Lord wonít you give me a coronet or crown?

Oh Lord, please donít make me a WOAW or a TWIT.
A Pel, or a Laurel, I wonít mind a bit.
But sight of the chicken will give me a fit,
Oh Lord, please donít make me a WOAW or a TWIT.