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The Klein Four
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Stefanie (The Ballad of Galois)
Folks, lemme tell ya a lil' story 'bout a man：
A man of the mathematical cloth, lived way back in ancient France,
'round about the time of that Bonaparte fella.
A young man who might coulda used a life extension.
A man by the name of Evariste Galois.
Some men are meant to live comfortable-like, but Frenchie here was not such a man.
While his schoolmates might have spent their days at the penny arcade or takin' in one o' them talkin' picture shows,
Our fella might just likely have been paradin' around in unlawful attire, or blasphemin' the king of France.
And he woulda gotten away with it too, were it not for the fact that he didn't.
Quicker'n you can say 'purely inseparable' our boy found himself wastin' away in the clink.
And that's where he met a pretty young thing
Daddy was the prison doc, so Galois was always runnin' a fever
And it wasn't too long until she went to his head,
A gal by the name of...
(Chorus)
Stefanie
The whole world's on top of me
But can't you see I should be running free with you
You're the rainbow in my thunderstorm
My teddy bear to keep me warm
I'll have it all when I can be with you
Now he was no ordinary troublemaker, our friend Galois (It's Galois you miserable piece of shi--)
No, Galois had a head for figgers, even if he wasn't good at nothin' else.
Some folk'll call him a smart man. Some'd call him dirt near brilliant.
Just not the fellers in charge over at E-cole Polytechnic.
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They wouldn't give him the time o' day.
'Course, you can't blame a fella for bein' a little out o' sorts at his exams
Seein' as how his old man went and bought himself a ticket on the ol' rope express the week before.
And if that weren't bad enough, a dandy feller by the name a' Purse-chucks went around town
Shootin' his mouth off about Galois' best girl. So our boy got it in his head to do some shootin' of a different sort,
To defend the honor of his dear...
(Chorus)
Now he might couldn't'a known what a teddy bear was back then,
But nevertheless, the way I hear it, by the light of the moon our boy put all his mathematical ideers on paper
Somethin' 'bout field extensions, some kinda dictionary between subgroups and intermediate...
I dunno, I only got the word 'field' out of it
But if'n ya ask me, he might shoulda spent his time brushin' up on how to count to ten,
'Cause when he hit that eleventh pace, it was too late,
And when Purse-chucks was done with 'im he had more holes than St. Andrews. (That's in England, you dumb fu--)
So as his friends all turned tail and ran, poor Galois lay there in a different kinda field,
And as he shuffled offa this mortal coil, his final thoughts were of her...
(Chorus)
Aww, shoot, I done told it wrong. Lemme start over.
Folks, lemme tell ya a little story 'bout a man.
Now, only the good die young, like the fella says,
and it don't ring truer than in this here story I'm about to unfold,
Happened back in Ancient France...
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