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

[Verse 1]
Well, 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

[Verse 2]
That 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

[Chorus]
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 kitchen with the tombstone blues

[Verse 3]
We're standing in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, “I’ve just been made”
Send for the doctor who pull down the shade
Saying, “Don't let the boys in”

[Verse 4]
Well, the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
Walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
“Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You won't die, it’s not poison”

[Chorus]
Mama’s in the fact’ry, she ain’t got no shoes
Daddy’s in the alley, lookin’ hard for the fuse
I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues

[Verse 5]
John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
“Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?”

[Verse 6]
Well, he Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly, “Death to all those who would whimper and cry”
And dropping a barbell he points to the sky
“The sun’s not yellow it’s chicken”

[Chorus]
Well, Mama’s in the fact’ry, she ain’t got no shoes
Daddy’s in the hallway, he’s lookin’ hard for the fuse
I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues, well

[Verse 7]
Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll
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

[Verse 8]
Well, I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from goin' insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

[Chorus]
Mama’s in the fact’ry, she ain’t got no shoes
Daddy’s in the hallway, lookin’ hard for the fuse
I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues, ah yeah