Northern, Knees, Trees, and Lights - Loch Lomond

Take my hands and make them straight

Take my hair and make it curl

Oh they took one leg and the other one too

They took them off to make their glue

They piled them high by the canvas tents

They piled them high and even higher yet

Oh let the mothers go their own way

Let the mothers go their own way

«Death to Tyrants» he yelled real loud

He learned it in Latin to make the northern crowed proud

Oh they chased the boy down, dislocated his knee

Aided by the trees and a bright northern light

They displayed his knees in a butcher shop

There’s Joy-esque buzz as the mothers shop

And all the people sitting in the pews

Are going to burn in hell

They’re going to burn in hell