(One, two, three, four)

Ah, the sweet song of the bell
It's the butcher's curtain call again
Does he sleep at night?
The hood protects his face from prying eyes

And the swinging man
Looks pretty good to me
I see he's pissed himself
But now he'll leave us be

(One, two, three, four)

I thought I heard a distant bark
Of the mothers, they're crying in vain again
A man stood sick as hell
The crowd didn't know his name at all

But the chopping block
Looks pretty good to me
And the rolling head
Rolls by and feels no pain

(One, two, three, four)
Ah, the sweet song of the bell
It's the butcher's curtain call again
Does he sleep at night?
The hood protects his face from prying eyes

And the swinging man
Looks pretty good to me
I see he's pissed himself
But now he'll leaves us be