Who killed Norma Jean?
I, said the City, as a civic duty,
I killed Norma Jean.
Who saw her die?
I, said the Night, and a bedroom light,
We saw her die.
Who'll catch her blood?
I, said the Fan, with my little pan,
I'll catch her blood.
Who'll make her shroud?
I, said the Lover, my guilt to cover,
I'll make her shroud.
Who'll dig her grave?
The tourist will come and join in the fun,
He'll dig her grave.
Who'll be chief mourners?
We who represent, and lose our ten percent.
We'll be the chief mourners.
Who'll bear the pall?
We, said the Press, in pain and distress,
We'll bear the pall.
Who'll toll the bell?
I, screamed the mother, locked in her tower,
I'll pull the bell.
Who'll soon forget?
I, said the Page, beginning to fade,
I'll be the first to forget.
Who Killed Norma Jean Video (MV)
Pete Seeger - Who Killed Norma Jean Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Who killed Norma Jean?
I, said the City, as a civic duty,
I killed Norma Jean.
Who saw her die?
I, said the Night, and a bedroom light,
We saw her die.
Who'll catch her blood?
I, said the Fan, with my little pan,
I'll catch her blood.
Who'll make her shroud?
I, said the Lover, my guilt to cover,
I'll make her shroud.
Who'll dig her grave?
The tourist will come and join in the fun,
He'll dig her grave.
Who'll be chief mourners?
We who represent, and lose our ten percent.
We'll be the chief mourners.
Who'll bear the pall?
We, said the Press, in pain and distress,
We'll bear the pall.
Who'll toll the bell?
I, screamed the mother, locked in her tower,
I'll pull the bell.
Who'll soon forget?
I, said the Page, beginning to fade,
I'll be the first to forget.
I, said the City, as a civic duty,
I killed Norma Jean.
Who saw her die?
I, said the Night, and a bedroom light,
We saw her die.
Who'll catch her blood?
I, said the Fan, with my little pan,
I'll catch her blood.
Who'll make her shroud?
I, said the Lover, my guilt to cover,
I'll make her shroud.
Who'll dig her grave?
The tourist will come and join in the fun,
He'll dig her grave.
Who'll be chief mourners?
We who represent, and lose our ten percent.
We'll be the chief mourners.
Who'll bear the pall?
We, said the Press, in pain and distress,
We'll bear the pall.
Who'll toll the bell?
I, screamed the mother, locked in her tower,
I'll pull the bell.
Who'll soon forget?
I, said the Page, beginning to fade,
I'll be the first to forget.