I sawed her again last night;
The crowd gasped, “No, you shouldn’t!”
It’s singing a song, the blade bright,
The box wooden; I’m puttin’
The sharpened edge through; some folks moan, “Euw!”
And I make the steel right through her go,
Yet she’s not grieving.

I separate legs from head
As watchers will discover (“Yech, yech!”).
Yet somehow she is not dead,
Even though there’s two of her.

She’s been cut in two, yet no red hue!
And some folks start feeling like they’ll throw
Up. . .that is, heaving.

Every time I cleave that girl,
It’s magic: she’s been halved but shan’t die.
I use steel to breach that girl—
We’re both givin’ the lie
To the concept of bi[section].

I sawed her again last night;
The deception’s a good ’un
It’s singing a song, the blade bright,
The box wooden; I’m puttin’
The sharpened edge through; it’s an illu-
sion I make the steel right through her go. . .
Not really cleaving.

She’s been cut in two, yet she don’t rue!
And some folks start feeling like they’ll throw
Up. And some are leaving.

Some believe I cleave that girl;
They actually wail, loudly cry,
But they really see that girl
Through a deluded eye—
I’m legerdemain guy.

I sawed her,
I sawed her again last night
But did something I shouldn’t
Have, and it went wrong—what a plight!
Did what I thought I couldn’t:
Legs really severed from head
As I look and discover:
She’s actually dead
Whole I’ll always think of her.