The ghost of Belle Starr, she
hands down her wits
To Jezebel, a nun, she violently
knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper
who sits
At the head of the chamber
of commerce
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the
tombstone blues
The hysterical bride in the
penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've
just been made"
And sends out for the doctor,
who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to
not let the boys in."
Now the medicine man comes
and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and
he says to the bride,
"Stop all this weeping, swallow
your pride
You will not die, it's not
poison"
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the
tombstone blues
Well John the Baptist, after
torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero, the
commander in chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero,
but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to
get sick in?"
The commander in chief answers
him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those
that would whimper and cry"
And dropping a barbell, he
points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not
yellow, it's chicken"
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the
tombstone blues
The king of the Philistines,
his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones,
and flatters their graves
Puts the Pied Pipers in Prison
and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the
jungle
Gypsey Davey, with a blowtorch,
he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro
behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection
of stamps
To win friends and influence
his uncle
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in trouble with the tombstone
blues
The geometry of innocent flesh
on the bone
Causes Gallileo's math book
to get thrown
At Delila who's sitting worthlessly
alone
But the tears on her cheeks
are from laughter
I wish I could give brother
Bill his big thrill
I would set him in chains
at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars
and Cecil B. Demille
He could die happily ever
after
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the
tombstone blues
Well Ma Raney and Beethoven
once unwrapped a bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse
around the flag pole
And the National Bank at a
profit sells roadmaps for the soul
To the old folks home and
the college
I wish I could write you a
melody so plain
That would hold you dear lady
from going insane
That would ease you and cool
you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless
knowledge
Mama's in the factory, she
ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's
looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the
tombstone blues
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |