The Printing Office

I have shaved my face, late afternoon
Looked descent when I left the house
Choose the tie with dots, a compromise
The red was too bright, and the purple soaked with something.

The church bench reserved for the family
I took my seat, I felt no guilt, I pity the shame
The water dropped from the wickars hand
The Bastard cried, the children sang

The Marching band, the volunteers
They dropped the beat, when the smoke filled the street
Sing Rackata-tam, Rackatacka-tam
The drummer boys went crash boom bang

I was there by the creek with the Baker, and the Editor
With jugs and rods every night till the sun went down
The Baker once turned to us other men, in his giggling voice
"To bad if this evening has to end up here"

The Marching band, the volunteers
Dropped the beat, when the smoke filled the street
Sing Rackata-tam, Rackatacka-tam
The drummer boys went crash boom bang

She was found up-stream,
In a purple gown,
Stained with chaircoal and mud
Shivering cold in the morning mist, humming that old lullaby

The Marching band, the volunteers
Dropped the beat, when the smoke filled the street
Sing Rackata-tam,Rackatacka-tam
The drummer boys went crash bang bom

The cough and the hiccup, my shaking hand.
And I have never been down, down to the Printing office
I drove Mary away, in a borrowed car
And the insurance money was spent in advance

The Marching band, the volunteers
Dropped the beat, when the smoke filled the street
Sing Rackata-tam, Rackatacka-tam
The drummer boys went crash boom bang
The drummer boys went crash bang bom