(Tune: Sweet Little Alice Blue Gown)
Oh, that Trotskyite mammy of mine,
‘Twas from her that I got my first line
Now I know she’s in heaven
‘Cause she’s lefter than Lenin,
That Trotskyite mammy of mine.
When we’d romp through the neighbor’s back yard,
Taking shots at the National Guard,
We would mount barricades
And we’d throw hand grenades
While the kids marched around as the People’s Brigades.
When we fought on the high school eleven
And the score stood at zero to seven,
You could hear o’er the din
Mammy shouting like sin,
«Shoot your captains, you morons, and bore from within.»
When the whistle has ended the game
You could hear mammy shout all the same,
«Reassemble your fraction for independent action!»
That Trotskyite mammy of mine.