It is called Talking John Birch Blues.
And
there ain't nothing wrong with this song.
I was feeling sad and kind of blue.
I didn't know what I was gonna do.
The communists was coming around.
They was in the air.
They was on the ground.
They was all over.
So I run down most hurriedly and joined the John Birch Society.
Got me a secret membership card.
Went back home to the yard.
Started looking on the sidewalk.
Under the hedges.
Well,
I got up in the morning,
looked under my bed.
I was looking every place with them gold darn reds.
Looked behind the sink and under the floor.
Looked in the glove compartment of my car.
Couldn't find any.
Looked behind the clothes, behind the chair,
looking for them reds everywhere.
Looked up my chimney hole,
even deep down inside my toilet bowl.
They got away.
I heard some footsteps by the front porch door.
So I grabbed my shotgun from the floor.
Snuck
around the house with a huff and a hiss saying,
hands up,
you communist.
It was a mailman.
He punched me out.
I was sitting home alone and I started to sweat.
I figured they was in my TV set.
I peeked behind the picture frame.
Got a shock from my feet that hit my brain.
Them reds did it.
Who'd any television?
I quit my job so I could work alone.
Got a magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes.
Following some clues from my detective bag,
I discovered red stripes on the American flag.
Betsy Ross.
Eisenhower,
he's a Russian spy,
Lincoln and Jefferson and a Roosevelt guy.
To my knowledge,
there's just one man that's really and truly an American.
That's George Lincoln Rockwell.
I know for a fact he hates commies
because he picketed the movie Exodus.
I finally started thinking straight
when I ran out of things to investigate.
I couldn't imagine nothing else and I'm home investigating myself.
Hope I don't find out too much.
Good God.