The Decemberists Lyrics

3. My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist

My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist 
In pre-war Paris 
Smuggling bombs for the underground. 
And she met my father 
At a fete in Aix-en-Provence. 
He was disguised as a Russian cadet 
in the employ of the Axis. 
And there in the half-light 
Of the provincial midnight 
To a lone concertina 
They drank in cantinas 
And toasted to Edith Piaf 
And the fall of the Reich. 

My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy 
And left for the cattle 
But later was found by a communist 
Who'd deserted his ranks 
To follow his dream 
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina. 
I get letters sometimes. 
They bought a plantation 
She weeds the tobacco 
He offends the nation 
And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear." 
"Sincerely, your sister." 

So my parents had me 
To the disgust of the prostitutes 
On a bed in a brothel. 
Surprisingly raised with tender care 
'Til the money got tight 
And they bet me away 
To a blind brigadier in a game 
Of high stakes canasta. 
But he made me a sailor 
On his brigadier ship fleet. 
I know every yardarm 
From main mast to jib sheet. 
But sometimes I long to be landlocked 
And to work in a bakery.

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