[Cast: V1 lead, V2 gang vocals] [V1: rough sardonic punk vocal, energetic, dry comic timing] [V2: rowdy pub gang, hockey crowd energy] [Intro: AM radio emergency alert, winter wind, distant hockey buzzer] [V1: spoken, deadpan] Attention, Maple Ridge. Due to snowfall, reduced visibility, and a significant increase in the recently deceased... Please remain indoors. Also... Timmy's drive-thru is still open. Priorities, eh? [Immediate band launch: fiddle, distorted upright bass, punk drums] [Verse 1: V1, driving folk punk] Snow came down at half past ten, By eleven Steve was dead again, By midnight Main Street lost its head, But traffic lights were flashing red. Old man Gord came shuffling through, One boot missing, frozen blue, Held the door and tipped his hat, Then tried to eat the welcome mat. Nancy screamed, "He's eating Fred!" Gord looked up and politely said— [V1: spoken] "Sorry." [Gang hit] [V2] SORRY! [Pre-Chorus: gang claps, fiddle climbing] [V1] They've got no pulse, They've got no beds, They've got one thought Inside their heads— [V2] BRAINS! [V1] But manners first. [V2] EH! [Chorus: full band, hockey arena gang chant] [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! Say "excuse me" while we eat your head! ZED is for zombie, snowbank red, Polite but still hungry and stubbornly dead! Pass the poutine, raise the dread, Maple syrup, brains instead! If civilisation's finally fled— [V2] SORRY, BUD! [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! [Post-Chorus: fiddle hook, gang vocals] [V2] Eh! Eh! Eh! [V1] Meet at Timmy's after? [V2] YEAH! [Verse 2: V1, faster, snare and accordion] Saturday night at the hockey rink, Nobody noticed the goalie stink, Centre ice had seventeen zeds, Still wearing helmets on empty heads. Face-off drops, the dead boys charge, Power play gets slightly large, Ref blows twice and raises his hand— [V1: spoken announcer voice] "Two minutes, biting. Unsportsmanlike. Understand?" Zombie nods and leaves the ice, Because apparently rules are nice. The crowd all chants from row eighteen— [V2] EAT THE REF! [V1] That's unsportsmanlike, Christine. [Pre-Chorus: stomping boots] [V1] No heartbeat, No body heat, Still sweeping snow from off the street. [V2] BRAINS! [V1] But shovel first. [V2] EH! [Chorus: full pub gang] [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! Say "excuse me" while we eat your head! ZED is for zombie, snowbank red, Polite but still hungry and stubbornly dead! Ketchup chips and severed dread, Double-double, fresh undead! If the whole damn province turns infected— [V2] SORRY 'BOUT THAT! [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! [Instrumental Break: manic fiddle, upright bass slap, hockey organ] [Gang vocals] GO! GO! GO! [Verse 3: V1, psychobilly bounce] Down Highway One came Ichigo, Black and red through blowing snow, Took one look at the shambling crowd, Pulled his toque down and muttered loud— [V1: lower voice] "Aw, c'mon, bud." [V1] Hollow Idolz across his chest, Green eyes saying, "I've seen worse mess," Zombie waved from across the lane— [V2: zombie gang] "Nice hoodie!" [V1] Then asked if he could borrow his brain. Ichigo sighed, "Get in line." Zombie said— [V2] "Yeah, no, that's fine." [V1] Because even during doomsday weather, Canadians queue politely together. [Breakdown: bass and floor tom, comic tension] [V1] Then everything stopped. No moaning. No feet. Something stepped onto the street. [Low goose honk] [V1: whisper] Canada goose. [Another honk] [V2: terrified] Ohhhhh no. [Build: snare roll] [V1] Zombies backed into the snow. One lost an arm. Nobody moved. Even the undead know— [V1 and V2] YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH THE GOOSE. [Explosive fiddle break] [Bridge: half-time pub singalong] [V1] Mountie horse went trotting by, Didn't even question why, Moose stood watching from the trees Like this happens every week. Curling club became a fort, Hardware store supplied support, One survivor shouted, "Run!" [V2] Nobody did. [V1] The Leafs were on. [Beat pause] [V1: spoken] Priorities. [Final Chorus: maximum gang vocals, hockey organ, full fiddle] [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! Say "excuse me" while we eat your head! ZED is for zombie, snowbank red, Polite but still hungry and stubbornly dead! Raise your toque and guard your sled, Hide your neighbour, save your bread! When the final maple leaf turns red— [V2] SORRY, WORLD! [V1 and V2] STILL CANADIAN! STILL DEAD! [Final Post-Chorus: accelerated call and response] [V1] Brains? [V2] EH! [V1] Poutine? [V2] EH! [V1] Double-double? [V2] EH! [V1] Apocalypse? [V2] WELL... [V1 and V2] COULD BE WORSE, EH! [Outro: instruments drop to winter ambience] [Timmy's drive-thru speaker crackle] [V1: tired zombie voice] Uh... hi. Can I get a large double-double, twenty Timbits... and, uh... brains? [Speaker voice] Sorry, kitchen's closed. [Long pause] [V1] Oh. No worries. See ya tomorrow. [Single goose honk] [V1: distant] OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE— [Hard stop] [End]
