The Fall of the House of Borden/"The Alibi"
BRIDGET
In the House of Borden
Somebody left us quite a mess
Splattered blood and brains on everything
Except on Lizzie's dress
It's a crime scene, it's a nightmare
It's a bloodbath, it's a fright
It's a butcher shop in the House of Borden
A mob is gathering outside
Half the town is in the yard
The press is in a frenzy
Cops are standing guard
It must have been a lunatic
A foreigner, a beast
But it's just us girls in the House of Borden
Lizzie was in the back yard
Or did she the barn?
It's only been a day now
And she's spinning quite a yarn
What we know for sure is
There were four and now's there's two
There's no coming back to the House of Borden
In the House of Borden
Somebody left us quite a mess
Splattered blood and brain on everything
Except on Lizzie's dress
It's a crime scene, it's a nightmare
It's a bloodbath, it's a fright
And it blew the roof off the House of Borden
We laid 'em out in the dining room
It's going on day two
I know it sounds disgusting
But it's 1892
There's no AC, it's August
And it's ninety-five degrees
Well, you do the math
In the House of Borden
Somebody left us quite a mess
Splattered blood and brains on everything
Except on Lizzie's dress
It's a crime scene, it's a nightmare
It's a bloodbath, it's a fright
It's a butcher shop in the House of Borden
A mob is gathering outside
Half the town is in the yard
The press is in a frenzy
Cops are standing guard
It must have been a lunatic
A foreigner, a beast
But it's just us girls in the House of Borden
Lizzie was in the back yard
Or did she the barn?
It's only been a day now
And she's spinning quite a yarn
What we know for sure is
There were four and now's there's two
There's no coming back to the House of Borden
In the House of Borden
Somebody left us quite a mess
Splattered blood and brain on everything
Except on Lizzie's dress
It's a crime scene, it's a nightmare
It's a bloodbath, it's a fright
And it blew the roof off the House of Borden
We laid 'em out in the dining room
It's going on day two
I know it sounds disgusting
But it's 1892
There's no AC, it's August
And it's ninety-five degrees
Well, you do the math
Credits
Writer(s): Alan Parsons, Eric Norman Woolfson, Andrew John (gb) Powell
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