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"We've traveled a long way to bring you this
song,
A brand new calypso we're sure to get wrong,
About the reform school to which we belong,
It's the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
Our silicon's grown at low
temperature,
The crystals resulting are not very pure,
We preserve all our lifetimes by using manure at the Hell's Bells
Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
Publication of papers will help your
career,
Promotions assured if you write twenty a year,
They are used in the washroom of the chief engineer at the Hell's Bells
Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
The economy squeezes pinch more
every day,
Coffee and tea breaks have been taken away,
They are hoping to make the transistor pay at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
Our walls are all graced by the
periodic chart,
Bill Shockley's picture is sewn over our hearts,
Bardeen and Brattain are our sweethearts at the Hells Bells
Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory.
Dislocations and traps are the bane
of our life,
Imperfections can cause you trouble and strife,
But we pick them all out with our scout master's knife at the Hell's Bells
Laboratory.
It's the Hell's bells and buckets of
blood at the Hell's Bells Laboratory."
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