McDorment and Richard Talbort
are sitting by your bed
there's a glass of punch below your feet
and an angel at your head
there's devils on each side of you
with bottles in their hands
it'll take one more drop of posion
and you'll dream of foreign lands
(1, 2, 3...)
when you pissed yourself in Frankfurt
and got syph down in Cologne
And you heard the rattlin' death trains
as you lay there all alone
Frank Ryan brought your whisky
in a borthel in Madrid
and you decked some fookin' blackshirt
who was cursing all the Yids!
At the Sick Bed of DHOLOKHOV
we'll kneel and say a prayer
the ghosts are rattling at the door
and the devil's in your chair
WAH!




(That's in response to your comment in my journal, but I guess it could apply to this too).