Seventy Six Broke Bones

Apologies to Willson Meredith, The Music Man

To the tune of 76 Trombones


Seventy six broke bones at the hippie raid,
With a hundred & ten Black corpses close at hand.
They were followed by rows and rows,
Of wounded pimps and whores,
The stoned of every famous band.
 
Seventy six cell phones caught the morning fun,
With a hundred & ten cop cars right behind.
There were a thousand creed,
All of them smoking weed,
There were horns of every shape & size.
 
There were copper bottom timpani in horse platoons,
Thundering, thundering, all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big ass loons,
Each big loon having its big fat way.
 
There were fifty mounted canons in the battery,
Thundering, thundering, louder than before.
Clarions of every size,
And strumpets who'd improvise
A full scream higher than the whore!
 
Seventy six broke bones hit the counterpoint,
While a hundred and ten cop guns blazed away.
To the rhythm of Harch! Harch! Harch!
All the kids began to march,
And they're marching to the courthouse today!
 



 
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