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the dubliners - button pusher lyrics

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i am the man, the well-fed man in charge of the terrible kn-b.
the most pleasing thing about it, it’s almost a permanent job.
when the atom war is over and the world is split in three
a consolation i’ve got, well maybe it’s not, there’ll be n-body left but me.

i sit at me desk in washington in charge of this great mashine,
more vicious than adolf hitler, more deadly than strichenine,
and in the evening after a tiring day just to give meself a laugh
i hit the b-tton a playful belt and i listen for the blast.

well, i am the man, the well-fed man in charge of the terrible kn-b.
the most pleasing thing about it, it’s almost a permanent job.
when the atom war is over and the world is split in three
a consolation i’ve got, well maybe it’s not, there’ll be n-body left but me.

if breznjev strats his nonsense and makes a nasty smell
with a wink and a nod from nixon i’ll blast them all to h-ll
and as for that fellow castro, him with the sugar cane,
he needn’t hide behind his whiskers, i’ll get him just the same.

well, i am the man, the well-fed man in charge of the terrible kn-b.
the most pleasing thing about it, it’s almost a permanent job.
when the atom war is over and the world is split in three
a consolation i’ve got, well maybe it’s not, there’ll be n-body left but me.

if me wife denies me conjucular rights or me breakfast milk is sour
from eight to nine in the morning you’re into a nervous hour
the b-tton being so terribly close, it’s really a dreadful joke
a b-mp with me a as i go past and we all go up in smoke

well, i am the man, the well-fed man in charge of the terrible kn-b.
the most pleasing thing about it, it’s almost a permanent job.
when the atom war is over and the world is split in three
a consolation i’ve got, well maybe it’s not, there’ll be n-body left but me.

now i’m thinking of joining the army, the army that bans the bomb
we’ll take up a large collection and i’ll donate me thumb.
for without it i am helpless and that’s the way to be.
you don’t have to kill the whole bl–dy lot to make the people free.

- the dubliners lyrics

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