Song of Many Deaths
© 1988, 1993 Watunes (BMI)
(From "Folk Heroes [Metaphor]" and "The Best of the Foremen")
In 1474 I was born Timothy Yancey
The son of a peasant farmer and a peasant farmer's fancy
I held a plow beneath each arm and one more in between
I caught the plague and bought the farm in 1517
In 1535 I was born Friederich Plumer
The son of a high-born gentleman, at least that was the rumor
I lived a pure and Christian life until my concubine
Came at me with a butcher knife in 1599
In 1672 I was born Abigail Neville
The daughter of a Salem good wife who was dealin' with the devil
And at her trial the council frowned suspiciously at me
But I proved innocent and drowned in 1693
Singin' hey ho, oh well, don't ask for whom tolls the bell
Even if we go to hell, we're back tomorrow night
Sing I'm here, you're here, now, and we'll be dead next year
But we're upon this sphere... until we get it right
In 1735 I was born Reginald Baker
I slipped through the doctor's fingers and went straight back to my maker
But I returned at 5 o'clock, an executioner's son
And I was one chip off his block in 1761
Singin' hey ho, oh well, don't ask for whom tolls the bell
Even if we go to hell, we're back tomorrow night
Sing I'm here, you're here, now, and we'll be dead next year
But we're upon this sphere... until we get it right
In eighteen hundred and nine I was born Abraham Lincoln...
(spoken) Well, I guess you know the rest of that one...
Singin' hey ho, oh well, don't ask for whom tolls the bell
Even if we go to hell, we're back tomorrow night
Sing I'm here, you're here, now, and we'll be dead next year
But we're upon this sphere......
In 19 recently we were born of our mothers
And we've had a good time in this life compared with all the others
If you think this show is live, you're wrong
We're dying here tonight
But we'll be back to perform this song until we get it right
Right...! Hey!