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B=L1C<
 The Ribald Bebel's Song (Fight For Liberation)
In the draft board, here we sit,
 Covered o'er with Nixon's shit,
While our sweat is turning Agnew's filthy mill.
And the people as they pass,
 They jam Melvin up our ass,
Well I guess we've had our goddamn fucking fill.
 Fight, fight, fight for liberation,
Break, break, break the social scheme.
 We will drag the bastards down,
And we'll grind them in the ground,
And replace them with a working-class regime.
Then we'll send a firing squad
 After Cardinal Spellman's God.
 Henry Kissinger will be the next in line.
Then we'll pump some LSD
 Into Jackie Kennedy,
 And we'll make her fuck the workers overtime.
 Then we'll get a bloody rope,
And we'll hang the fucking pope.
 And we'll burn the Sistine Chapel to the ground.
 Then we'll turn our tommy-guns
 On the screaming, ravished nuns,
 And the people's voice will be the only sound.
 Oh the Sherrif he came too, he came too.