Lyrics

the ballad of the punk rock window washer

In the Maritime lands, where the beer it is brown, And the girls they are cute, there in Halifax town. I went for a walk. I was bare of foot. My feet they were dirty and a’covered in soot. But in that land was one devoted to cleanliness Which one look assured me was next to heavenliness. One punk rock cherub stood tall and stood young, A man who made a livin’ by the stroke of his arm. And I said, "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "You're everything that a person should be!" "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "What a very fine way to earn your money!" As the cars stopped by the lights of red, He would tap on their windows. And, this is what he said: "I will wash your windshield for nary two quarters, this Maritime dust has your windows out of order. If you like a clean windshield, I also do the sides. I'm a Punk Rock Window Washer! I do it with pride!" And I said, "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "You're the very last strand of gentility's rope!" "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "If washing window's was a religion you’d surely be its Pope!" At the sight of this craftmaster, I questioned my life. Instead of a walk I should have gone for a drive. I could have told him that his tax free job was so great With a feeling so sublime, I could never relate it. But I had to keep my feelings of admiration inside. You see, I had no car so I walked right by. But I thought, "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "If you got no money he'll do it for free!" "Hey! Ho! Punk Rock Window Washer!" "It's the punk-rock-window-washin’-life for me!" The next time I walked by I saw he'd picked up an apprentice. He was sure with his squeegee but a little rough around the edges. Not quite punk rock enough, but I'm sure he'll learn. Once the punk rock is kindled, inside it burns.