In an anarchist garret, so dingy and so mean
You can smell the pungent odor of nitroglycerine
From the piles of pipe and powder, and pampers to the sky
'Neath the dust and dirty laundry, you can hear this mournful cry

Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb
God knows what's become of Brother Tom
Mamma's aim is bad and the cops they all know Dad
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb

There are knives and guns and daggers scattered on the front-room floor
Look behind the sofa, you'll find two dozen more
But Cousin Mag's bedridden and Grandpa is long dead
And Uncle Jim has left us to become a pistol Red

Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb
God knows what's become of Brother Tom
Mamma's aim is bad and the cops they all know Dad
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb

In the hall you'll find the baby teething on some dynamite
Try and get it from her, you'll find you're in a fight
But she's too young to do it and Mom is baking bread
And Uncle Jake is tripping and he's flipping out his head

Oh, it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb
God knows what's become of Brother Tom
Mamma's aim is bad and the cops they all know Dad
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb

There's a savage tabby kitty that's purring by the door
And lying on the bed there's a silencer
But the cat's no good at bombing and none of us be sure
That that silent, creepy creature's not an big provocateur

So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb
God knows what's become of Brother Tom
Mamma's aim is bad and the cops they all know Dad
So it's Sister Jenny's turn to throw the bomb