This week our task, should we choose to accept it, is to feature a song about jewelry.

I’m almost ashamed to say that the first song that came into my head was a now problematic ballad called ‘She wears my ring’ by an American crooner called Solomon King. Why problematic, you may ask? Well, the opening line is ‘She wears my ring to show the world that she belongs to me’. Belongs? Really?

It was 1968: ’nuff said.

Anyroad up, here’s something much more in my wheelhouse – and the lyrics do include a reference to an item of jewelry rather that just the jewels themselves, so I think that fits the brief.

And it’s Bowie – also ’nuff said.

This ain’t rock ‘n’ roll, this is genocide!

As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent
You asked for the latest party
With your silicone hump and your ten inch stump
Dressed like a priest you was
Tod Browning’s Freak you was
Crawling down the alley on your hands and knee
I’m sure you’re not protected, for it’s plain to see
The Diamond Dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees
Hunt you to the ground they will, mannequins with kill appeal

(Will they come?) I’ll keep a friend serene
(Will they come?) Oh baby, come on to me
(Will they come?) Well, she’s come, been and gone
Come out of the garden, baby
You’ll catch your death in the fog
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs

The Halloween Jack is a real cool cat
And he lives on top of Manhattan Chase
The elevator’s broke, so he slides down a rope
Onto the street below, oh Tarzan, go man go
Meet his little hussy with his ghost town approach
Her face is sans feature, but she wears a Dali brooch
Sweetly reminiscent, something mother used to bake
Wrecked up and paralysed, Diamond Dogs are stabilised

(Will they come?) I’ll keep a friend serene
(Will they come?) Oh baby, come on to me
(Will they come?) Well, she’s come, been and gone
Come out of the garden, baby
You’ll catch your death in the fog
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs

(Oh-oh-ooh) call them the Diamond Dogs
(Oh-oh-ooh) call them the Diamond Dogs
Oh, hoo!
Ah ooh!

In the year of the scavenger, the season of the bitch
Sashay on the boardwalk, scurry to the ditch
Just another future song, lonely little kitsch
(There’s gonna be sorrow) try and wake up tomorrow

(Will they come?) I’ll keep a friend serene
(Will they come?) Oh baby, come on to me
(Will they come?) Well, she’s come, been and gone
Come out of the garden, baby
You’ll catch your death in the fog
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs
Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs

Written by David Bowie

Song Lyric Sunday 9 November 2025