We head downhill, my hands fly back
   Our fingers freeze, our hair falls out, our hair falls out
   Our fingers freeze, our hair falls out
   The iron piston pumps and spouts
   The steaming air as hot as sprouts
   All aboard, Brenda's iron sledge
   No one's on top, they're comfortable
   They're sitting on a human chain, a human chain
   They're sitting on a human chain
   Their limbs compressed in icy slush
   Of freezing in a raw meat groove
   All aboard, Brenda's iron sledge
   Please don't call me Reg, it's not my name
   The body's rear, a bucking sled
   Which hits a tree and falls asleep, and falls asleep
   Which hits a tree and that is that
   The grasshoppers curl up and burst
   And Brenda shovels on the wurst
   All aboard, Brenda's iron sledge
   Please don't call me Reg, it's not my name