Selected Works Of The Black Sash

The Black Sash Encounters A Frenchman
By The Black Sash

You stand before me, Frenchman, you stand there and posture,
You make your pouffy gesture, you don't seem to have lost your
arrogance, but I shall make you dance.

Oh yes, Frenchman, you will dance

And you have the nerve to ask have I ever known Death
I know Death, on the back of my neck I feel his hoary breath,
on the back of my neck, the condenstion makes it wet
Death walks so close by my side I cannot hear his footstep

I shall hurt you, Frenchman, I shall show you such pain,
such pain it would make even the Marquis De Sade
moisten his frilly knickers and wince once again
Frenchman you must be insane

Frenchman when I strike you it's as if my brain warps
I guarantee you will leave a savaged French corpse

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