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 kill 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

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