Before the choir master drank himself to deathnHe used to love to entertain us with a songnAnd you never would have guessed that he was horribly depressednFor when he'd sing, it didn't seem a thing was wrongnnSinging, Hey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will rollnnI see the guidance counselor for our yearly tough talknAnd he used his hand to hide his crooked teethnHe said, A day will come along when you will find where you belongnAnd pray to god it isn't here with mennSinging, Hey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will rollnnHey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will rollnnSeventeen years later, I was walking home one daynThere was a man sitting, shaking, in the rainnWhite as a sheet and missing all his teethnHe looked so bad, I really can't explainnI think his name was Tim, he used to beat me up in gymnAnd I asked if he remembered me, 'cause I remembered himnAnd I pulled him to his feet, and I kissed him on the cheeknAnd arm in arm, we struck up this refrain:nnSinging, Hey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will...nHey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will...nHey, ho, the heads will rollnHey, ho, the heads will rollnDeath will come and take my songnHow the heads will roll