There was a maid as fair and plain you'd ever hear, She once has met a wealthy man, his beard all sky-bright blue, He spoke in riddles, smelled of dust, and he looked queer, But gold and titles weaved the spell that words could never do - His beard was blue.
He gave her keys that could reveal his fears and worries, The labyrinth of passages, all shadowed and perplexed, There was a room that he forbade... oh, you know the story - Since for a maiden plain and fair it could be triple hexed. Guess what was next?
Chorus: Blood upon the keyring, Blood upon the walls - Oh, the Duke is nearing, Oh, his weredog growls, Oh, it's so inhuman, Oh, you cannot wait, Run, you silly woman - Bluebeard's at the gate. Wife of Bluebeard - now you'll die. You disobeyed - now you'll die. You earned his hate - now you'll die. Wife of Bluebeard - now you'll die.
It was his beard, the wise men say, that was unholy, A price for sorcery from which his fame and fortune grew - A decent man is (a) poor and shaggy alcoholic, And that is fine if facial hair is anything but blue.