Song parody of
The Machine
by Headless Relatives
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When I was a young man I dreamt of the day
When I would take up the doctor's good trade
But when those who come to me are trembling and green
The cause it is me and my horrid Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
My father before me was met with contempt
No one likes a headsman or a headsman's get
But though I swore his work was not made for me
I find myself here with this monstrous Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
I studied the body and the nature of life
But I had to tend to my children and wife
To keep bellies full I gave up my dream
And helped to construct this deadly Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
I've watched the demise of rulers and kings
Short-lived are the hands that tug on the strings
But the face of death, it is ever serene
Nothing is certain except the Machine
When I was a young man I dreamt of the day
When I would take up the doctor's good trade
But when those who come to me are trembling and green
The cause it is me and my horrid Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
My father before me was met with contempt
No one likes a headsman or a headsman's get
But though I swore his work was not made for me
I find myself here with this monstrous Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
I studied the body and the nature of life
But I had to tend to my children and wife
To keep bellies full I gave up my dream
And helped to construct this deadly Machine
To tend to the ailing was my one desire
But my ministrations are fearful and dire
I polish the blade, keep it deadly and clean
I'm bound to tradition and to the Machine
I've watched the demise of rulers and kings
Short-lived are the hands that tug on the strings
But the face of death, it is ever serene
Nothing is certain except the Machine
