There's a ship arriving too late

To save a drowning witch

She was swimmin' along

Tryin' to keep a date

With a Merchant Marine

Who told her he was really rich

But it doesn't matter no more

She's on the ocean floor

'N the water's all green down there

'N it's not very clean down there

'N water snakes

'N rusty wrecks

Is all that she can see

As the light goes dim

And she's tryin' to swim

Will she make it?

(Boy, we sure hope so...)



Not even a witch oughta be caught

On the bottom of America's spew-infested

Waterways, hey-hey

She could get radiation all over her

She could mutate insanely...

She could mutate insanely... (that's right)

She could go on the freeway and grow up to be 15 feet tall

And scary-lookin'

And then...

Cars could crash all over the place

As a result of people with Hawaiian shirts on...

Lookin' up to see her face



Sardines in her eyebrows

Lobsters up and down her forehead(*)

All of them HORRIBLY LARGE FROM RADIATION

And smelling very bad

And DANGEROUS!



Maybe a submarine could save her

And bring her home to the Navy...

For some kind of ritual sacrifice...



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(*) "forehead" is the 'official' version, but in concerts

the word would be replaced with "pudenda" (e.g. on "You Can't

Do It On Stage Anymore, vol 3)

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