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Well, I propose a toast to the mitosist With the mostest She's a ghost who can boast From coast to coast in every Hela cell She's more cultured than Chanel Cartier or YSL But she's tired of being quite so huge And dizzy from the centrifuge She's quick frozen, colour-fast Her prison cell is built to last Dear Helen Lane Did you know your coffin's final nail Is bigger than a blue whale? And so it will remain Just as long as cell biologists Like peering at your private bits It's a grand humiliation Showing now across the nation Mutation on a huge scale Bigger than a blue whale Dear Helen Lane Did you know the bit you left behind May help to cure its own kind? SongtexteSo maybe you can claim A saintly little perch in every church For contributions to research Well back in 1953, m'lady had a malady A cervix abnormality That led to her fatality The cells went for a biopsy That showed up the malignancy But also a propensity To multiply so rapidly That the scientists went on to see What other uses there could be For her expansive quality They shared her around extensively To every good laboratory Her fame was spreading globally 'Til nowadays she's said to be The biggest lonely clone there'll ever be Arabidopsis and drosophila May have advice to offer her On how it's best to keep your cool When you've become a research tool Dear Helen Lane Did you know your flock of little vultures Divide and conquer lesser cultures? But not that you're to blame Your name before They diddled with the facts Was really Henrietta Lacks Dear Helen Lane Did you know that part you left to science Is now a giant among giants? And on a higher plane Your omnipresent question Bids the answer God's a black woman's cancer Aus Songtexte Mania