Zombie farmers

 Zombie farmers, zombie farmers

Come down from your fields

The tractors are ploughing

And you must make your meals

Zombie farmers, zombie farmers

What is it you sell? 

Is it brains in glass jars

Or is it visions of hell? 

I can see you at the market

Zombie farmers of Wells

Oh you would think they could park it

But your range Rover smells

Of all the brains you've been growing

In your poly tunnels

Well if you come to shepton mallet

You'll find our brains ring like bells

Inside of our heads

Where the spring flowers grow

And we all eat your crops

Though it gives us food for thought

You know

If you ever want my brain

I don't use it a bunch

You can borrow it this weekend

If you invite me for lunch