take my hands and make them straight
take my hair and make it curl
oh they took one leg and the other one too
they took them off to make their glue

they piled them high by the canvas tents
they piled them high and even higher yet
oh let the mothers go their own way
let the mothers go their own way

death to tyrants he yelled real loud
he learned it in latin to make the northern crowd proud
oh they chased the boy down, dislocated his knee,
aided by the trees and a bright northern light

they displayed his knees in a butcher shop
there's joy-esque buzz as the mothers shop
and all the people sitting in the pews
are going to burn in hell
they're going to burn in hell