Gabriel played his horn:
it wasn’t a cursèd sound.
But then came the troubadour
and he wandered all around.
And the notes went up
by three successive bitones.*
Aural evil held sway—
it was born, the bad tritone
Bad, the tritone,
Bad, the tritone
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
Bad, the tritone.

Once something like that starts,
evil will ensue.
The first thousand years, wasted!
Here’s what we must do
to make the music pretty again.
Thus we will atone.
To make the songs sound sunny,
we must ban the tritone,
ban the tritone.
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
Ban, the tritone.

Then we will ditch sonic dregs
through our newfound godly zeal.
And then to judgment we’ll rush,
hush diabolic spiel.
Thus we will atone.
This sad state isn’t funny.
we must ban the tritone,
ban the tritone.
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
Ban, the tritone.

A godless-schlock defeat
when He is on our side.
We are going to unseat
that which He can’t abide.
We’re going to quell all ditties praising
Satan sitting on his throne.
Then all will be glad, sunny
when we ban the tritone.
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
B-B-B-B-Ban
Ban, the tritone.

*major seconds; a MS consists of two half steps