When a well-know famous millionaire came up said, “How do you do?
Whatta you say, young feller, how would you like to go
And dig a fallout shelter - Two hundred feet below?”.
Well, me being out of work right then, to the millionaire I did say
“Digging this fallout shelter depends upon the pay
If you will pay good wages and compensation too
I think that I will go with you - Two hundred feet below.”
“Of course I'll pay good wages, give compensation too
If you'll agree to work with me until the shelter's through
But if you do grow weary and try to run away
I'll send your name and address to the old H.C.U.A.” (1)
With all his flattering talking, he signed up quite a few
Some ten or twelve in number, an able-bodied crew
Our trip it was a pleasant one, as we rode the B-M-T (2)
Out to Sheepshead Bay Road, and onward toward the sea.
There our pleasures ended, our troubles all begun
We struck a Con-Edison cable, electrocuting one (3)
With sewer pipes and seepage, our life it was no go
Ban-the-Bombers waiting to picket us - Two hundred feet below.
Well, the fallout shelter finished, the millionaire would not pay
"You drunk up all my whiskey, you're all in debt to me"
Our gang it was outraged, "You cannot treat us so"
We filled his hole and left him there - Two hundred feet below.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2015/8/14 - 13:18
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.