08-20-2004, 07:01 PM
In an old chemist's attic, so dreary and so mean,
Oh smell the fearful odors of nitroglycerine.
They're busy building bombs, and filling cans with nails,
And little starving kiddies set up this tearful wail:
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
In a dark and dreary attic, all filled with nitro fumes,
They spend each waking hour planning others' dooms.
They build bombs every morning, so not a day goes by
That from some smoking building goes up this mournful cry:
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
They're taught bomb-building from the day they're born,
And peace is something they all learn to scorn.
They can hardly wait to see the blast and hear the noise
And watch the heads go flying off little girls and boys.
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
She was maiming little children one fine day
When her older brother swore she'd have to pay,
Grit his teeth and pulled the pin. The whole darn house caved in,
And I'll bet she's building bombs below this day.
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
It's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
-- It's Sister Jenny's Turn To Throw The Bomb, (Traditional)
(And no, this is not the Leslie Fish version, but one which I taped off the Dr. Demento show many years ago.)-- Bob
---------
Do not taunt Happy Fun Baal.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Oh smell the fearful odors of nitroglycerine.
They're busy building bombs, and filling cans with nails,
And little starving kiddies set up this tearful wail:
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
In a dark and dreary attic, all filled with nitro fumes,
They spend each waking hour planning others' dooms.
They build bombs every morning, so not a day goes by
That from some smoking building goes up this mournful cry:
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
They're taught bomb-building from the day they're born,
And peace is something they all learn to scorn.
They can hardly wait to see the blast and hear the noise
And watch the heads go flying off little girls and boys.
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
She was maiming little children one fine day
When her older brother swore she'd have to pay,
Grit his teeth and pulled the pin. The whole darn house caved in,
And I'll bet she's building bombs below this day.
Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
The last one it was thrown by Brother John.
Mother's aim is bad and the coppers all know Dad,
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
It's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb.
-- It's Sister Jenny's Turn To Throw The Bomb, (Traditional)
(And no, this is not the Leslie Fish version, but one which I taped off the Dr. Demento show many years ago.)-- Bob
---------
Do not taunt Happy Fun Baal.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.