Lyrics

{Intro}

[Spoken, dramatic]
Hey kids… You like history?
You like fruit?

Too bad. You’re about to get a mouthful of both.



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{Verse 1}

Once upon a time down Central way,
A company rolled in with the U.S.A.
Bananas were cheap, the labor was cheaper,
And every white suit was a goddamn reaper.

"Land reform? How DARE you try?"
So they phoned up the Dulless boys — two-for-one spy.
CIA said, “Let’s make it rain,”
But instead of water? Yeah, it rained pain.


---

{Chorus}

United Fruit fuckery, exportin’ tyranny
Bought the press, bought the courts, bought the damn embassy
Peel back the truth and you’ll slip on the greed—
It’s a capitalist fever dream, plantin' coups like seeds!

United Fruit fuckery, don’t let ‘em gaslight ya
You thought it was breakfast, but it’s empire in a pita
Blood on the hands and stock in the vaults—
But hey, that fruit was ripe, so guess who’s at fault?


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{Verse 2}

Allen Dulless in a spy disguise,
While his brother at State just peddled lies.
They cried “COMMUNISM!” with a smirk so sly—
While they toasted their shares with banana cream pie.

Cabot Lodge with the phony grin,
Lobbyin’ hard, rakin' it in!
Boston Brahmins with colonial claws,
Fundin' coups, then changin' laws.


---

{Bridge}

[Spoken, Eddie — sarcastic tone]
Fun fact: They called it “Operation PB SUCCESS.”
Because “Operation Giant Middle Finger to Democracy” wouldn’t fit on the folder.


[Flatly]
Cool. Totally normal fruit stuff, then.


---

{Chorus}

United Fruit fuckery, masked in diplomacy
Serving oligarcky with a side of hypocrisy
Planted the seeds and called it “aid,”
Then blamed the poor when the price got paid.

United Fruit fuckery, sweet in the stores
But bitter as hell in the labor wars
Blood-soaked land for a breakfast bite—
But hey, it’s fine if it’s peeled just right.


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{Verse 3}

Sprool Brayden slid through like a snake,
Whisperin’ coups for banana cake.
Henry Luce ran the press like a show,
Printed the script so the public don’t know.

Guatemala said, “This land is ours!”
The U.S. said, “Hold my cigars.”
Next thing you know? Bombs drop fast—
A nation erased to protect their cash.


---

{Outro}

So next time you peel that sunny fruit,
Ask who bled in a torn-up suit.
History’s sweet when you never ask—
But justice rots behind the mask.

United Fruit…
Fuckery.

Insert banana joke here. 🍌