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 
bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits 
At the head of the chamber [bad word] 

Mama's in the fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
With the tombstone blues 

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade 
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made" 
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade 
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in" 

Now the medicine [bad word] 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 fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
With the tombstone blues 

Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief 
Looks up at his hero [bad word] in-Chief 
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief 
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?" 
 [bad word] in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly 
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry" 
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky 
Saving, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken" 

Mama's in the fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
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 

Gypsy 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 fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
With the tombstone blues 

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone 
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown 
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone 
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter 

Now 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 fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
With the tombstone blues 

Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll 
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 

Now 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 fact'ry 
She ain't got no shoes 
Daddy's in the alley 
He's lookin' for the fuse 
I'm in the streets 
With the tombstone blues