Just posted a Twelve Days from my Occupying True Love but am emboldened to wax on offensively.
There are filchers and schemers and punks out of Beamers.
There are hippies exhumed, and commies regroomed.
There are actors who've cracked on their last casting door
And writers who dine on the Grand Central floor.
So a slap in their face with some sour puss pie
and sing 'em a chorus of let's occupy.
Occupy! Occupy!
and sing 'em a chorus of let's occupy.
My old Uncle Max brought his Marx and his sax
and read it to kids who were orthodox yids
then he gave them some begels and sewed up their socks
and got mad when they whined that he didn't have lox.
So a slap in their face with a Wet Willie pie
and sing 'em a chorus of let's occupy.
Occupy! Occupy!
and sing'em a chorus of let's occupy.
A good place to meet 'em and lead' em to bed,
to weed 'em and seed 'em and stand on your head,
but one thing you don't want to do is to wed!'
So sing 'em a chorus of let's occupy.
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