Penicillin

Patrick Cannell/Jim Croft 1996

He took his rifle and he took his penicillin,
The kind of villain most historians delete.
And all the pigeons used to buzz around his heels,
Picking for bread crumbs in the street.

He took his mistress and he took his ammunition,
A hypodermic, and never looked back.
Killing's easy if you lose your inhibition,
You never know just when you'll need that sack.

They say that penicillin has done a lot of good
And when it's mixed with strychnine precipitates the blood.

A man of medicine and letters in the daytime
But in the night time, the cruelest of fiends.
He wanders searching for victims in the back streets
Behind the pubs and bars of New Orleans.

He doesn't understand that they were only sleeping,
He doesn't understand and doesn't want to.
For all the vagabonds whose secrets he was keeping
Were nothing more to him than they are to you.

They say that penicillin has done a lot of good
And when it's mixed with strychnine precipitates the blood.

The siren's crying but that doesn't stop him laughing,
He's got an alibi and it's all tied up.
They could not match him mentally or catch him,
He carried the shovel just in case he got stuck.

And when they couldn't do a thing to trace the doctor,
'Cause after all they're only human like him,
But what's that in the exhaust pipe of his shillelagh?
A hypodermic with penicillin.


Neal Raftery on bass, Dave
Sievert on lead guitar.