The chaplain has a way with words
Since the maid removed her tongs
She slithers through the cutting room
Where poor Elsie now belongs
The castanets went up in smoke
He's pricin' out a vat of pus,
it was our maid's final request.
The editor's been up for years,
filled cemetery plots with
Digs the rhythm of the sheets,
is the remake a great escape?
Maid Elsie sheds a snakeskin,
it's a job she means to keep
There's a job that shoots the talent,
went off in the loading zone
Had to stage it like an accident,
now the hospital's her home
The line was less than perfect,
and the gaffer made quite
When Milo called the pre -take,
poor Elsie's goose was gassed.
Now it's bandages and bedpans,
like a mummy in its tomb.
The picture's on the scrappy,
but it screams in a cartoon.
When the doctor feels rather,
not one camera will be seen
Ricardo sends a frozen brief,
This film is so much like a
I don't remember much of it
Yes, I was dreaming in a dream
I'm always dreaming in a dream
