To the tune of 'The Battle Hymn Of The Republic'
Well he caught the dirty bastard
comin' out the liquor store,
His wife was in the car with him,
dressed like a sleazy whore.
He said 'It's time for you and I
to even up the score',
and he knocked him to the floor.
He put on his brass knuckles
and he slapped him in the head,
The liquid leakin' out the boy
was colored brightly red.
He said 'When I get through with you
You'll wish that you were dead!'
and he beat him quite a bit more...
Well he opened up the front door
and he knew that she was gone,
The note was on the table
that she'd served him breakfast on.
He found a box of bullets
but he only needed one
'cause he didn't want to cry no more!
He pulled the revolver
from the nightstand by the bed,
slowly thumbed the hammer back,
he put it to his head.
and for the final time he thought
'I wish that I were dead'
now he ain't gonna cry no more...
And gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a messy way to die,
Gory, gory what a lonely way to die,
but he ain't gonna cry no more...
There were brains upon the nightstand,
there were brains upon the floor,
Nobody ever realized
he had so much brains before...
Another job well done
by the magnum .44
And he ain't gonna cry no more......
Mine eyes tell me the story
of the morning after whore,
she's not nearly as attractive
as she was the night before...
Her face looks like a battlefield,
her ass is covered with sores,
And I ain't drinkin' gin no more!
