Everybody gets it sometime, sorry.
Virus, fire, gryoscope, lear jet, lorry.
Choking on a chicken bone lurking in lunch;
And you're dead, dead, dead!
But not Mr. Punch

That Mr. Punch, he's a rum one, ain't he?
Strapping as his yapping little wife is dainty
Hit her with a big stick, give her what for
And she's dead, dead, dead
On the crimson floor

In the real world, all effects are casual
Amble backstage, see the sticks and swozzle
Talk to the Professor of the tricks of his trade
Ask him for his flask, it's only lemonade...

Here comes a Crocodile, here comes Clootie
Hear the Beadle wheedle, and the ghost of Judy
Rattling her ribs in rodomontade
They're all dead, dead, dead
In the old arcade

Lyrics submitted by vcharon

Mr. Punch song meanings
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  • 0
    General CommentRodomontade, according to Dictionary.com, is "vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, blustering talk."
    airwolf queenon September 24, 2006   Link
  • 0
    General Commentsuch a fun song, and perfectly fitting the grim topic so oftenplyed for laughs, as in the Neil Gaiman work the song is based on. Wonderful.
    Meirionaon October 06, 2008   Link

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