The famine's hard, the city's sieged
And we've forgotten who we need
I ate my son and I regret
But you don't know how desperate
Oh the king, he rides the wall
When I cried his clothes he tore
Jahoram, he blamed the Lord
We saw potato sack underwear
"To k** Elisha and have his head"
Is what that wicked king had said
Elisha trusted, despite the mail
And prophesied a flour sale
Four lepers, empty camp
And they weren't coming back
Retreated from the music
Of an army soundtrack
And then we plundered deserted tents
I sold my flour for a pence