Leslie Fish - Serious Steel lyrics

Oh, the bombs went up and the crunch came down In the middle of the Pennsic War: It left us stranded in Coopers' Field, Ten thousand souls or more. We had nothing with us but what we'd brought: Our cars, and our camping gear, And our arms and armor, tools and sk**s We'd worked on all that year. CHORUS: So dress your ranks, lift your pikes Tight as the teeth of a comb; Rattling, clanking down the road, The War is going home! So a truce was called, and a council held, And we argued all that night, Then we all set off in a caravan By the early morning light. We had tipped our arrows and pikes with steel, And were armored, every one; Our swords and bows hung ready to hand, For the time of rattan was done! The very first town that we came to, We stopped for fuel and food; The gas-man said he had none to sell, The cops were worse than rude! They drew their guns, we drew our bows, They fired – we won the day, For their backup radios all were dead, And shortly, so were they. The very next town that we came to, They had no fuel at all. The garage-men said they could change our cars To run on alcohol, But five thousand cars would take as long As to grow a crop of grain – So we made a deal, and moved on out In a horse-drawn wagon train! The very third town that we came to The rulers had gone mad! The cops tried to enslave us all And steal what all we had. Our armor proved half bulletproof, Our weapons worked as well: The townsfolk afterward thanked us all For freeing them from Hell. So, town by town, we worked our way Just to take our people home; The legends that we left behind It seems, would rival Rome! For now the folk come seeking us To take their troubles on, To be their teachers and champions In a world where law is gone. How can we not take up the steel For to serve our people's need? How can we leave our land to fall To any bandit's greed? We have the sk** to save our folk From whatever evil thrives: And – admit the truth – this is the chance We've hoped for all our lives! FINAL CHORUS: So, dress your ranks, lift your pikes Tight as the teeth of a comb; Rattling, clanking down the road, Dressed in leather and steel and – woad? All too aware of history's load, The War is going home! The War is coming home!