The Merryman, and he's Mad
Lyrics by Susanna R.A. Miller
Tune by Arthur Sullivan
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung to a tune by a gaudy goon with a laugh and a life gone wrong-o,
It's the song of a merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
How could this be? Toxicity?
He saw no sin and he claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung to a glee by a Ph.D whose wits were sharp and strong-o,
It's the song of a scientist, meek and small,
Who analysed inmates of Arkham Hall,
but mostly the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
Couldn't they see? Psychology??
She pled his case and explained his crime
to the jury and judge in the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung by an imp in a motley guimpe instead of a labcoat long-o,
It's the song of a merrymaid, madcap she,
Who arose from the ruins of the sanity
of the serious scientist, meek and small,
Who analysed inmates of Arkham Hall,
but mostly the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
"Puddin'! Puddin'!
Couldn't you see: you and me?"
She bared her soul and she shared his crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung from the heights o'er the streets at night where cutpurse and footpad throng-o,
It's the song of a paladin, sane and sad,
Who swore an oath as an orphan lad
to avenge the fallen and take on the task
(with strength and science and cloak and mask)
of patrolling the places where criminals hide
and protecting the honest folk inside
from the likes of the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
and the mad March hare who shared his crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
Arkham again; seven-to-ten?
We can sleep at night while a signal light
shines bright as the moon o'er the city.
Tune by Arthur Sullivan
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung to a tune by a gaudy goon with a laugh and a life gone wrong-o,
It's the song of a merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
How could this be? Toxicity?
He saw no sin and he claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung to a glee by a Ph.D whose wits were sharp and strong-o,
It's the song of a scientist, meek and small,
Who analysed inmates of Arkham Hall,
but mostly the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
Couldn't they see? Psychology??
She pled his case and explained his crime
to the jury and judge in the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung by an imp in a motley guimpe instead of a labcoat long-o,
It's the song of a merrymaid, madcap she,
Who arose from the ruins of the sanity
of the serious scientist, meek and small,
Who analysed inmates of Arkham Hall,
but mostly the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
who saw no sin and who claimed no crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
"Puddin'! Puddin'!
Couldn't you see: you and me?"
She bared her soul and she shared his crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
I have a song to sing, O!
(Sing me your song, o!)
It is sung from the heights o'er the streets at night where cutpurse and footpad throng-o,
It's the song of a paladin, sane and sad,
Who swore an oath as an orphan lad
to avenge the fallen and take on the task
(with strength and science and cloak and mask)
of patrolling the places where criminals hide
and protecting the honest folk inside
from the likes of the merryman, rhythm and rhyme,
who smiled sardonically all the time,
and the mad March hare who shared his crime
as he slayed 'em all over the city.
Pity! Pity!
Arkham again; seven-to-ten?
We can sleep at night while a signal light
shines bright as the moon o'er the city.