Bravely bold Sir Murtha rode forth to Fallujah!
He was not afraid to die, O brave Sir Murtha!
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Murtha
He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp
Or to have his eyes gouged out and his elbows broken
To have his kneecaps split and his body burned away
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Murtha!
His head smashed in and his heart cut out
And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged
And his nostrils raped and his bottom burnt off
And his penis...
(Well that's enough music for now, lads...)
Bravely ran away, away - I didn't!
When danger reared its ugly head
He bravely turned his tail and fled - No!
Yes, brave Sir Murtha turned about
And gallantly he chickened out
Bravely taking to his feet
He beat a very brave retreat
Bravest of the brave, Sir
Filed under Murtha, Pelosi, Iraq, Song Parodies, The Fifth Column