[00:00.00]Michaelangelo - Slapp Happy
[00:00.43]Lying back to paint upon the ceiling
[00:03.59]No he never uses black just the colours of his feelings
[00:07.61]He delineates saints on a sepia ground
[00:11.53]His tamper like his paints is albumen bound
[00:15.11]Work and toil well he ain't no dilettante
[00:18.82]He conceives in oil and Vatican Chianti
[00:37.02]The rumour's out his hobby is dissection
[00:39.87]And there ain't no doubt he knows the body to perfection
[00:51.31]Fourteen lines that's what makes a sonnet
[00:54.38]It even rhymes
[00:56.05]Buonarroti's working on it
[01:05.75]Through the streets stricken by the urchins
[01:09.04]Wrapped in sheets round the town he's lurching
[01:12.68]Lurching to the church heavy with a vision
[01:16.29]Continuing his search though they come with their derision
[01:19.95]All his works you just gotta see 'em
[01:23.70]Ask the clerks at your neighborhood museum
[01:41.83]Pope's on the phone calling Buonarroti
[01:44.84]But he's not home he's gone a little potty
[01:56.21]He's off again waving paints and brushes
[01:59.62]Round the bend to wind up in the rushes