The Devil Has a Shovel

The devil has a shovel,
he keeps it in his shed
On chicken legs, made of skin and bones
Made of screams and groans.

The devil has a shovel,
Fiddle-diddle-dee, a shovel.
The devil has a shovel.
What’s he gonna do with it?

The devil has a shovel,
Neatly on a shelf,
That he keeps dusting off every Saturday.
He makes sure it smells of decay.

The devil has a shovel,
Yabba-dabba-doo, a shovel.
The devil has a shovel.
What’s he gonna do with it?

The devil has a shovel
Next to his collection of skulls,
Where he keeps his shadow and his hunting boots
And his flaming business suits.

The devil has a shovel,
A bee-bop-a-loo, a shovel.
The devil has a shovel.
What’s he gonna do with it?

The devil has a shovel,
It is his pride and joy.
Mad of deep dark nights, made of dread,
Of the hopes and dreams of the deade.

The devil has a shovel,
Zip-a-dee-doo-da, a shovel.
The devil has a shovel.
What’s he gonna do with it?

The devil has a shovel,
But I, I have none -
So would you mind going over
And ask if I could borrow his?