Old Dr. Guillotin, they say,
A man of medicine and wit,
Designed a clever tool one day—
A sharp and scientific hit.
To purge the nation’s body whole
Of every schemer, heart and soul,
It’s the Guillotine, hey-ho!
It’s the Guillotine.
To punish treason, high and low,
And corporate thieves in tailored suits,
Those VIPs who run the show
While hoarding all the golden fruits.
For them, the masterwork was made,
We know the power of the blade:
It’s the Guillotine, hey-ho!
It’s the Guillotine.
The plotting mob, the rebel crew,
Who stir the pot for private gain,
Have caught a bug—a nasty stew—
A fatal pounding in the brain.
To cure these "gentlemen" of late,
We’ll lead them to the