Rubber Bullets

I went to a party at the local county jail
All the cons were dancing and the band began to wail
But the guys were indiscreet
They were brawling in the street
At the local dance at the local county jail

Well the band were playing
And the booze began to flow
But the sound came over on the police car radio
Down at Precinct 49
Having a tear-gas of a time
Sergeant Baker got a call from the governor of the county jail

Load up, load up, load up [bad word] bullets
Load up, load up, load up [bad word] bullets

I love to hear those convicts squeal
It's a shame these slugs ain't real
But we can't have dancin' at the local county jail

Sergeant Baker and his men made a bee-line for the jail
And for miles around
You could hear the sirens wail
There's [bad word] goin' round death row
That a fuse is gonna blow
At the local hop at the local county jail

Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do

Sergeant Baker started talkin'
With a bullhorn in his hand
He was cool, he was clear
He was always [bad word] 
He said "Blood will flow;
Here Padre
Padre you talk to your boys..."
 [bad word] in me -
God [bad word] to set you free"

Well we don't understand
Why you called in the National Guard
When Uncle Sam is the one
Who belongs in the exercise yard
We all got balls and brains
But some's got balls and chains
At the local dance at the local county jail

Load up, load up, load up [bad word] bullets
Load up, load up, load up [bad word] bullets

Is it really such a crime
For a guy to spend his time
At the local dance at the local county jail
At the local dance at the local county jail

Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do about it, whatcha gonna do