Tombstone Blues - Live at St James Park, Newcastle, UK - July 1984

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 the factory, she ain't got no shoes
 Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
 I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
 The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
 Screaming, she moans, "I've just been made"
 Then sends 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 lookin' 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 lookin' 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 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 factory, she ain't got no shoes
 Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
 I'm in the kitchen 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 lookin' for food
 I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues
 Where Ma Rainey 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
 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 lookin' for food
 I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues