They’re playing outside in Tolly Maw, laughing and chanting which means that someone is having a very bad time of it. I mean to say, but listen -
These are the scissor girls, these are the boys
They cut up your blankets and cut up your toys
They cut as they giggle and cut up that noise
These are the scissor girls, these are the boys
These are the needles and these are the pins
They stitch up your face where the scissors made grins
They hide inside packets, and bags and in tins
These are the needles and these are the pins
These are the old men with old curses and knives
They saw at the stitches urged on by their wives
They thieve at your days to stretch out their lives
These are the old men with old curses and knives
These are the flies slick sticky as tar
They creep and they feed on the puss from your scar
They’ll find out your stink no matter how far
You run from the flies slick sticky as tar
You’ll rot in your room, your fingers fall off
No dancing, no drinking, no sleeping, no scoff
You daren’t cry aloud and you daren’t even cough
You’ll rot in your room, your fingers fall off
You’ll die where you lie ignored on the floor
Unless to the kitchen, unless to the drawer
Unless then the scissors to your stumps you will gnaw
You’ll die where you lie ignored on the floor
You are the scissor girls, you are the boys
You cut up their blankets and cut up their toys
You cut as you giggle and cut up that noise
You are the scissor girls, you are the boys
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