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Future Bible Heroes
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Mr. Punch
Everybody gets it sometime, sorry.
Virus, fire, gryoscope, lear jet, lorry.
Choking on a chicken bone lurking in lunch;
And you're dead, dead, dead!
But not Mr. Punch
That Mr. Punch, he's a rum one, ain't he?
Strapping as his yapping little wife is dainty
Hit her with a big stick, give her what for
And she's dead, dead, dead
On the crimson floor
(repeat)
In the real world, all effects are casual
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Amble backstage, see the sticks and swozzle
Talk to the Professor of the tricks of his trade
Ask him for his flask, it's only lemonade...
But,
Here comes a Crocodile, here comes Clootie
Hear the Beadle wheedle, and the ghost of Judy
Rattling her ribs in rodomontade
They're all dead, dead, dead
In the old arcade
(repeat)
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