Pigs tend to wander when they fly
The Battersea reply
And the snipers lost their sight
With the bassist at Montreal
From cheap seats they grieve
Spit on a stranger's long sleeve
It took a pig on the wing
To raise the demon impediment
And high-ho that pig could fly
High-ho the pig could fly
And we're tallying the instances that stick
Each tired moment laid a brick
They'll play their lick behind a wall
(You'll just have to wait)
Point it at the solar system beside ours
There the Kaisers have no powers
And what about the mind of Syd Barrett?
A genius in disguise
I wonder if he thought of the other four guys?
(Some say they knew him, and he did)
Once his sister had a cyst
The teacher ruled with a cane stick
Cracked across your hand like a whip
When you wrote your poetry
'New car, caviar
Four star daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team'
And high-ho that pig would pry
High-ho the pig would pry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem