The Rough-As-A-Cob March
by The Firesign Theater
from "Don't Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers"

Choir:   We're marching, marching to Shibboleth,
         With the Eagle and the Sword!
         We're praising Zion 'til her death,
         Until we meet our last reward!
Men:        Our Lord's reward!
Women:   Zion!  Oh happy Zion!
         O'er wrapp'd, but not detained!
Men:     Lion, f'rocious Lion!
         His beard our mighty mane!
Women:      At First and Main!
Men:     Oh, we'll go marching, marching to Omaha,
         With the Buckram and the Cord!
Women:   You'll hear us "boom" our State!
Men:        Ha, ha!  
         As we cross the final ford!
Women:      The flaming Ford!
Choir:   Zion!  Oh mighty Zion!
         Your bison now are dust!
         As your cornflakes rise
         'Gainst the rust-red skies,
         Then our blood requires us must
         Go-o-o-o
Men:     Marching, marching to Shibboleth,
         With the Eagle and the --
Women:         The Buckram and the Cord!
Men:        Sword!  
         Praising Zion 'til her death!
Women:      Ha, ha!
Men:     Until we eat our last reward!
Women:      The flaming Ford!
Choir:   Zion!  Oh righteous Zion!
         There is no one to blame!
         For the homespun pies
         'Neath the cracking skies
         Shall release the fulsome rain!
Tenor:   Shall release!
Men:     Shall release!
Soprano: Shall release!
Women:   Shall release!
Choir:   Shall release the vinyl rein!

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