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O' the open aired passenger, his chin moved up the left |
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O' the open aired passenger, his brain fell out his head |
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His wife in pink, what did she think |
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As she held his remainder in her hands |
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Scrambling over the seat for the largest pieces of his skull |
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What he surely can't afford to lose |
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O' the captain of 123, a plane he no longer could steer |
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O' the captain of 123, before the mountains appeared |
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The flight control, what did they know |
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As their charge just kept right on hovering |
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And the girl on board, what did she know |
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As she heard her mother whispering |
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"Do not be afraid, we'll be alright" |
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And the barber of New Orleans, the day the raining began |
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O' the barber of New Orleans, when the levee gave in |
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No saints came marching out, no booming voices from above |
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But he had nary a doubt |
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For he oh-so-often was told of love |
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By the good book that guided his land |
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And they all said |
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"Do not be afraid, we'll be alright" |
