Down in the cellar You're getting into making poison. You slipped some on the side, Into my glass of wine, And I don't want any coffee--homeground. Offer me a chocolate, No thank you, spoil my diet, know your game! But tell me just how come They smell of bitter almonds? It's a no-no to your coffee homeground. Pictures of Crippin Lipstick-smeared. Torn wallpaper. Have the walls got ears here? Well, you won't get me with your Belladonna--in the coffee, And you won't get me with your arsenic--in the pot of tea, And you won't get me in a hole to rot--with your hemlock On the rocks. Where are the plumbers Who went a-missing here on Monday? There was a tall man With his companion, And I bet you gave them coffee--homeground. Maybe you're lonely, And only want a little company, But keep your recipes For the rats to eat, And may they rest in peace with coffee homeground. Pictures of Crippin Lipstick-smeared. Torn wallpaper. Have the walls got ears here? You won't get me with your Belladonna--in the coffee, And you won't get me with your arsenic--in the pot of tea, And you won't put me in a six-foot plot--with your hemlock On the rocks. With your hemlock on the rocks. "Noch ein Glas, mein Liebchen?"* With your hemlock on the rocks. "Es schmeckt wunderbahr!"* With your hemlock on the rocks. "Und???"