The White Stripes
Prickly Thorn, but Sweetly Worn
[Chorus]
Singing
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh

[Verse 1]
Well the hills are pretty and rollin'
But the thorn is sharp and swollen
And the man plays a beautiful whistle
But he wears a prickly thistle

[Chorus]
Singing
Li de li de li oh oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh

[Verse 2]
The silver birches pierce through an icy fog
Which covers the ground most daily
And the angels which carry St. Andrew high
Are singing a tune most gaily
[Chorus]
Singing
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh

[Verse 3]
One sound can hold back a thousand hands
When the pipe blows a tune forlorn
And the thistle is a prickly flower
Aye, but how it is sweetly worn

[Chorus]
Singing
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh
Li de li de li oh oh
Well a li de li de li oh