Hey there, “Drillbabydrill!”
Outer shelf is pumping.

A mess, the spill,
A mess, the spill,
Spill, baby, spill.
Water’s slicked with slime,
A mess, the spill.

Rig was blown up, sky-high, fears eleven guys died. . .
A long ride from the shore.
Ain’t exactly grist for the apologists
Who covet rigs, more and more.

Clear ain’t the bay; swirls more each day.
A mess the spill—blow, blow, blow oil,
A mess, the spill.
It’s a spill; the well’s blown,
A mess, the spill,
Can’t be controlled with foam,
Spill, baby, spill.

Gone are Johnny, Jack, Joe, Sam, Stan, Frank and Jim,
Just to name a few.
Spill in the sea took all of them
And gave up lots of goo.

Clear was the bay’s world; now it’s gray, yuck, yuck, yuck?
A mess the spill,
Oil, oil, oil, oil,
But let’s still drill.
See the water shine,
A mess the spill
From the broken line,
Spill, bay, beach, spill.

So we tell ourselves to drill on the shelf,
But all those tracts in the sea
Will not have a compunction about an eruption—
We fight Ma Nature; winner is she,

Clear was the bay’s world; now, no way, yuck, yuck, yuck?
A mess the spill,
Oil, oil, oil, oil,
But let’s still drill.
It’s a spill; the well’s blown,
A mess, the spill,
Can’t be controlled with foam,
Spill, baby, spill,
See the water shine,
A mess the spill,
From the broken line,
Spill, bay, beach, spill,
Gray crude, crude, crude,
A mess, the spill,
Bay’s screwed, screwed, screwed,
Spill, baby, spill.