Now what's that distant noise we hear?
It sounds like World War III is near.
We're shaking like we're sitting on powder kegs.
We're watching while our car tops rust,
And our noses fill with volcanic dust.
It's stinking and it smells like rotten eggs.

And, Harry Truman, if you're smart tonight,
You'd better hang on to your knickers tight.
Take notice when that summit starts to fly.
'Cause when that sucker gets ready to blow
When steam escapes and the mud slides flow
You can stoop and kiss your molten ash goodbye.

Now Harry Truman you've got to go.
You can't be stuck there in that snow.
You've got to leave that dirty mountainside.
It's going to rock, it's going to roll.
It's going to leave a nasty hole.
It'll be too late to find a place to hide.

Did you ever think that she would wake,
With such a big ol' bellyache,
That her name would soon become a household word?
Now she's spouting off for all to see,
Though when she blows is a mystery.
It'll be the loudest blast you ever heard.

Now, Harry Truman you've got to go.
You can't be stuck there in that snow.
You've got to leave that dirty mountainside.
It's going to rock, it's going to roll.
It's going to leave a nasty hole.
It'll be too late to find a place to hide.

Well the tourists come to see her smoke,
And they all think it's one big joke,
That mountain's just a mole hill in disguise.
But when that lava starts to ooze,
They'll be running the heels off their shoes.
Heck we'd have thought she was over publicized.
 

Now Harry Truman you've got to go.
You can't be stuck there in that snow.
You've got to leave that dirty mountainside.
It's going to rock, it's going to roll.
It's going to leave a nasty hole.
It'll be too late to find a place to hide.

All the seismographers' nerves are wound
And the Richter scale is jumping round
They don't want you on that mountain when it blows.
You should know that all good things don't last
And you might be coming down real fast
"Get your rear in gear," as that old saying goes.

Now the saddest thing we know is true
What Mt. St. Helen's going through
Is the fear old Harry's caps can't bear to meet.
When the icebergs melt and the ground gets red
And old Helen wishes she were dead
We know that poor old mountain was in heat.
 

Now Harry Truman you've got to go.
You can't be stuck there in that snow.
You've got to leave that dirty mountainside.
It's going to rock, it's going to roll.
It's going to leave a nasty hole.
It'll be too late to find a place to hide.

Well I know you're sticking to your guns
And you think that we're the cowardly ones
'Cause when we start running scared
Well you're all smiles.
And you say you know that mountain well
But when that baby starts to swell
It's  a burp that can be heard 400 miles.
 

Now Harry Truman you've got to go.
You can't be stuck there in that snow.
You've got to leave that dirty mountainside.
It's going to rock, it's going to roll.
It's going to leave a nasty hole.
It'll be too late to find a place to hide.

Come on Harry
Come on down off that mountain!