The Infanta

Here she comes in her palanquin
 On the back of an elephant
 On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk
 All astride on her father's line
 With the king and his concubines
 And her nurse, with her pitchers of liquors and milk
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
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 Among five score pachyderm
 Each canopied and passengered
 Sit the duke and the duchess' luscious young girls
 Within sight of the baroness
 Seething spite for this lithe largesse
 By her side sits the baron
 Her barrenness barbs her
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 ♪
 A phalanx on camel back
 Thirty ranks on a forward tack
 Followed close, their shiny bright standards a-waving
 While behind, in their coach-and-fours
 Ride the wives of the king of Moors
 And the veiled young virgin, the prince's betrothed
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 ♪
 And as she sits upon her place
 Her innocence laid on her face
 From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets
 Melodies rhapsodical and fair
 And all our hearts afire
 The sky ablaze with cannon fire
 We all raise our voices to the air
 To the air
 And above all this folderol
 On a bed made of chaparral
 She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow
 And the babe, all in slumber dreams
 Of a place, filled with quiet streams
 And the lake, where her cradle was pulled from the water
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 And we'll all come praise the infanta
 And we'll all come praise the infanta