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!