Old Man Luedecke
Woe Betide The Doer Of The Deed
Woe betide the doer of the deed

The gravy train, has thinned out in the rain
Of Wall Street washing down the drain
And when you made off, I hope that you got paid off
That your money tastes of blood and your hands are stained
May white collar choke you, where the fires of hell stoke you
May your children never live in shame

Because we won't, forget
The curshing pain of our debts
Way you drove your country to the ground
Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed

You went along, you heard the siren song
You thought everyone would be rich when they're not poor
And you felt so brave, you said to gamble was to save
Then the banks took the money and closed the door
And when the bottom fell out, we heard you scream and shout
But it's daily that the suffering pays out

Because we won't, forget
The curshing pain of our debts
Way you drove your country to the ground
Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed

Your foreign wars, cut the purse strings of the poor
Your entitlement bloodies foreign shores
And when the heroes come home, you leave them all alone
You've no use for their sub-prime broken bones

Because we won't, forget
The curshing pain of our debts
Way you drove your country to the ground
Because we say woe betide the doer of the deed
Woe betide the doer of the deed
Woe betide the doer of the deed