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GEORGIE ON THE IRT (parody on Engine 143)
(Words: Lawrence Block; tune: Trad.)

Along came the IRT, a'cannon ballin' through
From 242nd Street to Flatbush Avenue
At 5:15 one Friday Eve, she pulled into Times Square
The people all filled the station, and Georgie he was there.

The people all filled the station, they milled and massed around
And Georgie looked upon that train and it was Brooklyn bound
He vowed at once that train to board, the weekend not to roam
For Georgie was a shipping clerk and Brooklyn was his home.

The people all filled the station, a million head or more
George used his elbows and his knees until he reached the door
But when he reached those portals, he could not take the gaff
The conductor shut the door on him and cut poor George in half

The train pulled out of Times Square, the swiftest on the line
It carried poor George's head along, but it left his body behind
Poor Georgie died a hero's death, a legend [martyr] plain to see
And the very last words poor Georgie said were "Screw the IRT"

Now when you ride the IRT and you approach Times Square
Incline your head a few degrees and say a silent prayer
For his body it lies between the ties, amidst the dust and dew
And his head it rides the IRT to Flatbush Avenue.

Recorded by: Dave Van Ronk on Folkways
(Reissued on Smithsonian Dave Van Ronk CD SOF 40041)

Tune: Engine 143 (aka F.F.V) by The Carter Family

@parody @train @death
filename[ IRTSONG

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