Riposte, riposte, riposte, riposte,
Touché, babe.
There's no need for you to be afraid:
I've got a tip cap on my blade.
Without it, well, you would be dead.
You can't get slit by my capped blade.

Now, I'm gonna thrust; you
Will not sense a bit of pain
I'm gonna thrust; you
Want to parry, make a try;
Keep a sharp eye.

Ripped ope, ripped ope, ripped ope, ripped ope,
Touché, babe.
I can see: a big mistake I've made:
There was no tip cap on the blade.
Well, I'll get out the tourniquet
And keep the pressure where you're frayed.

I'm gonna truss you. . .
Haven't severed a main vein.
I'm gonna truss
Till those paramedic guys
Come and apprise.

I'm gonna "hush" you,
'cause you're kvetching in pain.
I'm gonna "rush" you
You'll be pharmaceuticized,
Anesthetized.

[screaming sax solo]

Foiled-again curse.