The sweet, pretty things are in bed now of course,
The city fathers, they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse,
But the town has no need to be nervous.
The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her wits
To Jezebel, the nun, she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper, who sits
At the head of the Chamber of Commerce.
Mama's in a 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 have just been made!"
Then 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 who 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 'em out to the jungle.
Gypsy Davy
1 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 a 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 Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah, who's sitting worthlessly alone,
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.
I wish I could give Brother Bill his great 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.
Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll,
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road-maps for the soul
To the old folks' home and the college.
I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you, dear lady, from going insane,
That could 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.