Guns Are the Tongues

Carrie ran a murderous crew
 Dedicated through and through
 And the chance to prove
 they never squandered
 And they liked to kill so clean
 Save the innocent, kill the mean
 But from time to time,
 a bullet wandered
 Carrie kept her souvenirs
 Kept her scrapbook down the years
 Of her brave boys, how she cried to read it
 And a few fell by the way
 Or lost the stomach for the fray
 So young blood was always needed
 Carrie noticed him right away
 The way his whole body would sway
 Like a trawler boy
 Finding his legs ashore
 They said he was just nineteen
 A head case but his record was clean
 Just the kind
 They were looking for
 Carrie watched him through the crack
 As they teased him behind his back
 They called him Little Joe
 'Cos he scraped the ceiling
 And when he was the worse for wear
 She took him up the stair
 And soon he fell
 For her brand of healing
 She said, I'll lie like a rose on your pillow
 Let me twine the laurel in your hair
 I want to smell my love on your fingers
 If you want to be mine, Little Joe
 You must harden your mind, Little Joe
 We've got to fight for what is ours
 Bring peace to the grave of my brother
 Bring peace to the grave of my father
 Dry the old eyes of my mother
 Little Joe
 There's a roadblock down the way
 Thick with soldiers night and day
 They'll hear the noise
 All the way to Glengarry
 If you show you've got the stuff
 That you're sworn and brave enough
 Then you'll stand tall
 In the eyes of your Carrie
 And I will lie like a rose on your pillow
 And I'll twine the laurel in your hair
 I want to smell revenge on your fingers
 Guns are the Tongues, Little Joe
 The only words we know
 The only sound that'll reach their ears
 Bring peace to the grave of my brother
 Bring peace to the grave of my father
 Dry the old eyes of my mother
 Little Joe
 Now Little Joe would've jumped clear
 But for the awful fear
 Of scraping his knees there on the gravel
 The car was a rolling bomb
 Blew all to Kingdom Come
 They marvelled how far
 His boots had travelled
 Another hero snatched from my pillow
 I used to twine the laurel in his hair
 I want to smell sacrifice on my fingers
 Guns are the Tongues, Little Joe
 The only words we know
 The only sound that'll reach their ears
 Bring peace to the grave of my brother
 Bring peace to the grave of my father
 Dry the old eyes of my mother
 Little Joe