O What has become of Millicent Frastley? Is there any hope that she is still alive? Why haven’t they found her? It’s rather ghastly To think that the child was not yet five The dear little thing was last seen playing Alone by herself at the edge of the park There was no one with her to keep her from straying Away in the shadows and oncoming dark Before she could do so, a silent and glittering Black motor drew up where she sat nibbling grass From within came a nearly inaudible twittering A tiny green face peered out through the glass She was ready to flee, when the figured beckoned An arm with two elbows held out a tin Full of cinnamon balls, she paused, a second Reached out as she took one, and lifted her in The nurse was discovered collapsed in some shrubbery But her reappearance was not much use Her eyes were askew, her extremities rubbery Her clothing was stained with a brownish juice She was questioned in hopes her answers revealing What had happened, she merely repeatedly said ‘I hear them walking about on the ceiling’ She had gone irretrievably out of her head O feelings of horror, resentment and pity For things which so seldom turn out for the best The car, unobserved, sped away from the city As the last of the light died out in the west The Frastley’s grew sick with apprehension Which a heavy tea only helped to increase Though the felt it was scarcely genteel to mention The loss of their child, they called in the police Through unvisited hamlets the cars went creeping With its head lamps unlit and its curtains drawn Those natives who happened not to be sleeping Heard it pass and lay awake till dawn The police with their torches and notebooks descended On the haunts of the underworld, looking for clues In spite of their praiseworthy efforts, they ended With nothing at all in the way of news The car, after hours and hours of travel Arrived at a gate in an endless wall It rolled up a drive and stopped on the gravel At the floor of a vast and crumbling wall As the night wore away hope started to languish And soon was replaced by all manner of fears The family twisted their fingers in anguish Or got them all damp from the flow of their tears They removed the child to the ballroom, whose hangings And mirrors were streaked with a luminous slime They leapt through the air with buzzings and twangings To work themselves up to a ritual crime They stunned her and stripped off her garments, and lastly They stuffed her inside a kind of pod And then it was that Millicent Frastley Was sacrificed to the insect god
Read the complete lyrics to "The Insect God" by Michael Mantler from the album "The Hapless Child and Other Inscrutable Stories" in 1976. On Lyrks you can follow along with the full text, explore the artist's discography, and discover related songs. The track is often categorized under Rock, Jazz.
"The Insect God" is performed by Michael Mantler. from the album "The Hapless Child and Other Inscrutable Stories" in 1976 This page provides the full lyric text for fans who want to sing along, study the songwriting, or compare versions across releases. Lyrks organizes lyrics by artist and song slug so you can bookmark and share a stable URL.
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"The Insect God" is credited to Michael Mantler. Songwriting credits may include additional writers listed on the release; check the credits section on this page for linked collaborators.
"The Insect God" appears on "The Hapless Child and Other Inscrutable Stories" in 1976.
Visit the Michael Mantler artist page at /artist/michael-mantler for biography, popular tracks, and links to more lyric pages.
