The Infanta - The Decemberists: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

The Decemberists

The Infanta

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Rock

The Infanta was released on March 22, 2005 by Kill Rock Stars as a part of the album Picaresque

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00:40 - 00:45

The Infanta was discovered most frequently at around 40 seconds into the song during the past week

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OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Chris Walla

Electric Guitar

The Decemberists

The Decemberists

Performer

Petra Haden

Vocals

Joe Cunningham

Baritone Saxophone

Paul Brainard

Trumpet

Aaron Stewart

Gong

Eric Stern

Tenor

Jeff London

Brass

Sean Nelson

Vocals

Tom Hill

Trombone

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Colin Meloy

Songwriter

Paul Brainard

Arranger

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Chris Walla

Producer

The Decemberists

The Decemberists

Producer

Ed Brooks

Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Here she comes in her palanquin

On the back of an elephant

On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk

All astride on her father's line

With the king and his concubines

And her nurse, with her pitchers of liquors and milk

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

Among five score pachyderm

Each canopied and passengered

Sit the duke and the duchess' luscious young girls

Within sight of the baroness

Seething spite for this lithe largesse

By her side sits the baron

Her barrenness barbs her

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

A phalanx on camel back

Thirty ranks on a forward tack

Followed close, their shiny bright standards a-waving

While behind, in their coach-and-fours

Ride the wives of the king of Moors

And the veiled young virgin, the prince's betrothed

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And as she sits upon her place

Her innocence laid on her face

From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets

Melodies rhapsodical and fair

And all our hearts afire

The sky ablaze with cannon fire

We all raise our voices to the air

To the air

And above all this folderol

On a bed made of chaparral

She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow

And the babe, all in slumber dreams

Of a place, filled with quiet streams

And the lake, where her cradle was pulled from the water

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

Written by: Colin Meloy

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