Song without a Chorus

At the bottom of the ladder stands a pail, stands a pail
And the bandit and his crew break out of jail, out of jail,
It’s a wonder that we’re walking
While the thunder drowns our talking
And we haven’t got protection from the hail, from the hail.


And the payment on the credit card is due, card is due
This is something that you often have gone through, have gone through,
And your lovely Auntie Goldie
Says your walls are turning moldy
And a flight of pigeons moved into the flue, into the flue.


And the barber and his men march to the gate, to the gate,
And you wake up but you’re twenty years late, years late,
Where’s a webcam? where’s a rifle?
As the guards their yawns they stifle
And the horsemen place their bags on your estate, on your estate.