Higher Hell
And refreshing was her smile.
So loving was her attitude she maintained all the while.
She reaped in her softness which created a gentle mood.
And if I ever felt hunger, she would hand me a bit of food.
Ah true, she was exciting,
refreshing and loving
and still found a way in which she maintained all the while;
that was her faith,
that was her favorite style,
that was her favorite style.
The Hospital Song
Nobody sends me birthday cards
Nobody brings me flowers
I'm just here for operations
I've been out for hours
When I come to I'll wet my bed
'Cos when I get mad I sink so low
As matron knows
I get off on what you give me, darling
I get off on what you give to me
Yeh, I get off on what you give me, darling
I get off on what you give to me
And when I go to that seedy ward
Up in the sky
You'll be waiting
With a hypodermic needle
And a graph
Here comes the dark
(I'm grateful for my anaesthetic)
Out goes the spark
(Delirious and apathetic)
When I come to
I'll wet my bed
And when I get well
I'll take revenge
I'll wreak my wrath
On all blood donors
And their sisters
Visiting time and flowers
When sister brings that bedpan round
I'll piss like April showers
I get off on what you give me, darling
I get off on what you give to me
Yeh, I get off on what you give me, darling
I get off on what you give to me
And when I go
I'll die of plaster casting love