Just outside of Johnson City
On a dark and twisting road
In a Kenworth 18-wheeler
With a heavy, shifting load
He was pushing through to Binghamton
Though the hour was getting late
Pfizer’s finest on a mission
To the pharmacies upstate
He was on a holy mission
There were men who couldn’t wait
(for his thirty thousand pounds of Viagra®)
He’d clocked seven hundred miles
Since he climbed into the rig
Just another twenty-five or so
Would finish up that gig
But the trailer hit an oil slick
And down the hill did fly (Oh, my!)
‘til it landed at the bottom
in the town’s water supply
It was instant rigor mortis
What a hard way to die!
CHORUS:
Save your sons
Shield your daughters
There’s Viagra®
In the waters
All over Johnson City
People rising with the dawn
They drank their morning coffee,
Took their showers, watered lawns
And who could have predicted
All the changes up ahead?
Men were getting up for work,
And heading back to bed
So many called in sick,
You would have thought a virus spread
Down at the courthouse coffee shop
Some stared in disbelief
As a pack of thirsty lawyers
Started filling out their briefs
But at the local college
Young men appeared much smarter
No chromosomal mystery
They simply studied harder
Now water on the rocks
Is the latest party starter
CHORUS
The Johnson City firemen
Cursed their wretched luck
They could not get their fire hoses
Wound back on the truck
Sprinkling holy water at a funeral,
Father Ryan said
"I know I’ve saved their souls,
but I’ve never raised the dead.
Would a couple o’ strong men help me now
Close the casket lid?"
Old man Weisberg
Took the shower of his life
Then he marched into the kitchen
And he called out to his wife
She knew something was up
As he stood naked at the table
Holding two cups of coffee
And half a dozen bagels
It had been at least a decade
Since the last time he was able
CHORUS
Believers seeking miracles
The pilgrims came in hordes
The waters of Viagra®
Grew more popular than Lourdes
The clergy quoted scripture
But they found it hard to sell
That those who chose to be anointed
Were pointed straight to hell
Despite the dire warnings
The crowds began to swell
Some hardened politicians
Came into town one day
With their permits and their pipelines
Pumped the waters all away
From the heart of Johnson City
Rose the mournful cry of men
But the women knew another truck
Was coming through again
Don’t worry—there’s a truck next week
We’ll spread the oil again
