Krishna
(Riding Shotgun on the Stagecoach of my Life).
Set 'em up, break 'em down
And pass the cup around
It's the last that we will share for quite some time
I've shaved my hair - wear a dress
I've left my bonny wife
I've got Krishna riding shotgun on the stagecoach of my life
[Chorus]
My sweet lord rama rama
Got my ticket to Nirvana
It's a commune just left of county Cork
Share a pint with me lord Shiva
As we read the Bhagavad Gita
I'll have Krishna riding shotgun on the stagecoach of my life
-of my life
Well I used to be a cattle prod for Jesus
And L. Ron Hubbard took me in some too
I was a moonie, loved Charles Manson
But they are not as handsome
As the godhead whose skin is shining blue
[Chorus]
Hari Hari Ha Hooray!
I chant it every day
with my virtue tucked proudly in my lap
And I pray all night to Krishna
'Cause he's a damned good listener
And he never ever ever answers back
[Chorus]
And when Irish eyes are trying to make the Pommies pay
We'll get Krishna and his shotgun to join the IRA
the IRA - the IRA
Hari Hari Ha Hooray!
I Want to
Spill the Blood of a Hippie.
These are the 2 different versions I've heard. The first is from Icon, and the second from Live in N.Y
Version 1:
Well I flipped my wig in the Valley of the Dolls Went on a teenage rampage, what a trip trip trip This psychedelic retro that they don't understand Open up your mind, button up your lip lip lip 'Cause I'm sick - of conversations with people I despise I'm sick - of free love and always quenching my desires I'm sick - of groovy, dig it, and like wow I'm sick - of it all I want to crush kill destroy I wanna spill the blood of a hippy I'm eager to stone a stoned child from the 60's I wanna switchblade to cut their lovebeads An enema, not love. That's what the world needs now. My body is a temple, it's a sacred site She's chanting mantras she's a loser lost in space space space She's jacked into the junk she's got a velvet head She's not high on life she's off her face face face I say no more - "Alice when she's ten foot tall" No more - "Blowin' in the wind" or "I shall be released" No more - I got this headache, honey what's the use? I'm gonna get a gun and make my own kinda fun I wanna spill the blood of a hippy I'm eager to stone a stoned child from the 60's I wanna switchblade to cut their lovebeads An enema, not love. That's what the world needs now. Version 2:
I had a date at eight with a girl called Fleur I had to meet her parents, what a trip trip trip They offered me a joint, a cup of miso soup And some tofu magic mushrooms oh how hip hip hip Then I saw her - with a poster of Jimmy Hendrix on the wall I saw her - change from a schooldress and into a sarong I saw her - saying cool, dig it and like wow Then I sawed her - in half, I can't tell which piece I want I wanna spill the blood of a hippie I'm eager to stone a stoned child from the sixties I want a switchblade to cut their lovebeads Genocide not Genesis (YUK!). That's what the world needs now We've had enough of farting vegetarians Open up their mouths and feed 'em meat meat meat Get all the buskers, dole bludgers and the junkies Back on the crack and off the street street street Well I say no more - "Alice when she's ten foot tall" No more - "Blowin' in the wind" or "I shall be released" There's a hippy in my house, he drives me mad It wouldn't be so bad if he was someone elses dad I wanna spill the blood of a hippy I'm eager to stone a stoned child from the 60's I wanna switchblade to cut their peenies An enema, not love. That's what the world needs now.
It's a Broad
Lick Nic.
It's a broad lick nic And I'll tell you while I'm able Or I'll smash your skull if you're not Drink enough Black label It's a hard mans drink And though the bottles broken Put your money on the table Strain the glass through your teeth So we grew up mean lean Kings of the street scene Without a mothers guiding hand To keep us clean Down your rum We'll take life as it comes And all you blue rinse critics Lick our literary bums I drank my first pure malt Before I was three I smoked a pack of Dutch cigarettes My pappy left for me And I romanced a little lass Who was twelve years my elder At the age of six I held her That year I also bed her So before I was seven My first child was born I told a pack of filthy lies As a politician I heard my own confession As an act of contrition I spent ten years as a Trappist monk In a village in Tibet And I walked up Everest naked Just to win a bet Well I severed my leg To win a one legged race And when I won, I stitched it Right back into place I've fought Mohammed Ali I've seduced Mata Hari I've even worn a sari When I impersonated Ghandi And I dare any man here To call me a liar (Liar!) But I swear I've seen Ezekial I swear I've seen Isiah Toasting marshmellows In Beelzebub's fire And we're mad mad mad Dangerous to know We never give a tinkers cuss About the seeds we sow And we stay up late And never be forlorn And when the morning comes around We'll kiss the crack of dawn We took the whacks from Kerouac's And dusty Dostoyevsky's And when all was said and done Booze was all I had left me For all the worlds great thinkers Are all a looooaaaaaooooaaad of pus And if you ask us how Zarathustra spoke He spake thus, Drink drink drink Drink until you're drunk Drink until you can't stand up 'til you're roly-poly stunk 'til your bladder bursts 'til you throw a fit to curse 'til they lift you up still comatose And slamdance in the hearse We're good, good, bad, bad Ugly as sin We mix up cough syrup With our gin So take your medicine I pray that when I die There's someone else around To kiss my arse goodbye Yes, I pray, I pray, I pray that when I die There's someone else around to kiss my arse goodbye
Dead Elvis.
I was floating through the cemetery late last night When I saw a ghost who was outta sight He said 'Down in the graveyard there's a party going on So get down (get down) six feet And sing a spiritual song Everyone's invited we would be delighted If you grabbed your favourite corpse and came along' [Chorus] You don't move your arms and don't move your legs You just do the Dead Elvis You don't grind your pelvis it's the dance of the dead You just do the Dead Elvis Your old hound dog's sniffin' at your tomb Tryin' to find a bone that ain't been consumed You can't jailhouse rock in your blue suede shoes You just do (do do) the Dead Elvis I bet you're lonesome tonight in your hole in the ground Old Shep's all shook up and he's pissed on your crown No one's crying in the chapel, so get wise (get hip) There's some pretty heavy shit going down and you're it Priscilla was delighted All Dallas was invited To poke fun a your corpse and kick your dog [Chorus] It was a terrible day, when you had your cardiac arrest They tried to find your heart but couldn't cut through the flesh You can't Viva Las Vegas when there's no viva left You just do do do The Dead Elviiiiiiiiis You're dead Elvis
Commies For
Christ.
My tag's Tall Tim
(no need to shout)
I said that's my name
(so don't wear it out)
You see me here, I'm running hot
I'm a juicy hamburger 'cos I got the lot
I got a bone the size of a Tyrannosaurus Rex
Only one thing, I want your sex
My name is Tricky Ricky, if the situation's sticky
Then I'm your man, I got a plan
I used to be a brickie
I don't give a damn about what you say
And if you don't like that you'd better walk this way
(Rock it Tricky Ricky, gonna rock it to the left
Rock it Tricky Ricky, gonna rock it to the right)
My name is Paul, I'm the best of all
'Cos I'm in your face like a can of mace
(bullshit!)
I'm a groove lick, love child, king of the verse
You mess with me boy, you leave in a hearse
Your God is a nothing God
Is a mealy mouthed God
Is a weak arsed God
My God is a really tough God
Is a straight line God
Is a good ole boy
Your God drinks peach nectar
Eats boiled fruit
Can't fart out loud
My God arm wrestled Khruschev
Eats meat, farts with pride
Hey, Hey
Commies for Christ
Hammers and sickles and the word's not flesh - it's steel
Commies for Christ
'Cos he's the man that carved the lamb - and made us feel
Commies for Christ
I'm having a sexual fling with a red under my bed
Commies for Christ
Drank too much altar wine, it's gone straight to my head
Take Marx, take Christ, take drugs
Take Marx, take Christ, take dr dr dr dr dr drugs
My God is a vengeful God
Is Cecil B. de Mille
He kills for the fun of it
(Rep rep repetition, rep rep repetition, yo, yo)
Your God been around for too long
Can't get down, is an aging hippy
(Hippy, hippy, skippy, skippy)
(Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch)
God, Hey
Commies for Christ
Go get some long knives to carve up these loaves and fishes
Commies for Christ
Support the cause or else someone could get vicious
Commies for Christ
'Cos he's the word you've heard - The truth, the light, the way
My God ain't risen, 'cos he's sleepin' in today
Take Marx, take Christ, take drugs
Take Marx, take Christ, take drugs
Commies for C C C CC CCC Coca Cola
Amen
Skinhead
Skippy.
There is a British version of this song, based on everyones favourite glove puppet and is titled Skinhead Sooty. It is that version of the song which is included in DAAS's Dead and alive CD.
Skippy's all grown up he's not a joey anymore He's interested in getting pissed and passing out on the floor, Oi! He glassed Mat Hammond with a bottle of stout And threw a dart in Sonny's eyes before he ripped it out Who's that walking on air? Bouncing down the street without a care? It's skin head Skippy, the killer kangaroo, Oi! With blood soaked bovver boots and a racist attitude A mean fucking mother's son Not afraid of anyone Got the others on the run Here he comes, here he comes Skippy the skin, Oi! Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, Oi! Skippy's got a tattoo and he's gone and shaved his head He's dating wallabies half his age And getting them into bed He says his old friends are all miserable pricks They're married now or dead and gone Or mentally sick Who's that walking on air? Bouncing down the street without a care? Well Benji got the snip and tuck and now he's sniffing glueoh shit that's great Flicka Milo and Otis died at least eight times over aah, woof, meow, oh, ah, doh, oh - that's eight Rin Tin Tin blindly humps the leg of his owner Hey Rin Tin Tin, what's that tune Last Post. Damn, splinter! Ow! Flipper became sushi Mr. Ed loves drag Lassie's a transvestite And Gentle Ben, Gentle Ben's a fag Who's causing havoc on the docks? In a pair of bright red braces and cherry red docs! It's skin head Skippy the fascist kangaroo With a blood soaked Stanley knife And a racist attitude He'll wait until you're all alone Crack your skull, break your bones Send the pieces to your home He's the one All in fun Skippy the skin-head Oi, oi, oi, oi, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, tch, Oi!
Stimulate My Penis
With Your Hand.
(The lost Gilbert & Sullivan song from The Mikado.) Only about 10 of these verses were played during their shows, the additional verses come from the DAAS Songbook, where even the guys thought a little censorship was in order (hence the ****). However that could have been deliberately done to allow our imaginations to fill the gaps; or maybe with a little careful erasing, and holding the book up to the light we could work out the missing words?
Loudly let the trumpets bray Tum Tum Tara, Tum Tum Tara Ladies and gentlemen we present for you now the lost songs of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Mikado". These songs were censored at the time by Queen Victoria herself because of their intense political and revolutionary nature. We present them to you now, translated from the original Japanese. Loudly bang the sounding brasses Bom Bom Babom Bom Bom Bom Can we walk hand in hand through the park? We'll whisper sweet nothings and love sonnets by the bard It's a love I'll know will always last If we walk hand in hand through the park Shall we stroll along the promenade? I shall buy you ice-cream treats and shield you from the sun My heart beats louder than Venus did for Mars Shall we stroll along the promenade? Let us dine by romantic candlelight We'll drink wine and whiskey and I'll get you slightly drunk And if my hand slips, maybe you won't mind If we dine by romantic candlelight Shall I babysit for your sister Gwen? I shall run round her house naked and try on her underwear Oh! Have I said something wrong again? Shall I babysit for your sister Gwen? You look so lovely in your dress of pale chiffon With its tight bodice and its lovely little bows Oh please let me try it on Please dress me up in pale chiffon Can you staple-gun my genitals to the wall? I wouldn't normally beg but I've been a trifle tense We could both have a ball If you staple-gun my genitals to the wall Will you let me be your cocker-spaniel pup? Punish me for disobedience, rub my nose in "it" You can treat me rough (rough rough) Oh! let me be your cocker-spaniel pup? Push bamboo shoots up my arse Beat me with piping while you wear a latex mask I'm so shy I dare not ask Will you push bamboo shoots up my arse? Oh let me urinate upon your tongue Let me give you a tickle with my little golden trickle I will be your pee-wee chum If you let me urinate upon your tongue Oh, let me rub up against your thigh Let me shoot my load and spray cum into your...(fa la la la) I will be your very steady guy If you let me rub up against your thigh Can I fill your gutty-wutz with curdled cream? Baby-gravy, a **** choker, a necklace made of **** There's so much you'll be bursting at the seams When I fill your gutty-wutz with curdled cream Oh permit me to penetrate your arse Push my red hot poker along the dirt shaft I'm not the first - I will not be the last Oh permit me to penetrate your arse Let me lick your sticky sopping **** Roll my tongue around your **** and kiss your **** I'm so hot - Oh! I think you've got a rash Let me lick your sticky sopping **** We'll play with **** A giant **** called **** I'm sure will do the trick I will be your sweet little boy If you let play with **** [Everyone!] Stimulate my penis with your hand Help me reach climax with the back of your throat I will be your ever-loving man If you stimulate my penis with your hand
If you think this is an enjoyable operetta song, please feel free to browse the Gilbert and Sullivan WWW site :-)
Mummy Dearest.
Hi ma, I've come back home 'Cause I don't like this world we live in For all my faults and failures Please tell me I'm forgiven I want my old womb back My cosy cubby-hole I want to be your child again Before I get too old Mummy dearest, mother mine It's me your baby boy I know what's lacking in your life That old maternal joy So lets boil up some water No need to get a nurse It'll be just like the virgin birth But only in reverse Mummy dearest, mother mine It's me your only son Freud would have a field day Trying to understand this one Let's have a natural re-entry Most doctors say it's easier But I've brought a butchers knife Just in case you want a caeser It's not some old wive's tale Or some unfortunate wisecrack But you could use some extra weight And I need to take a nine month nap And I've been good, I've been good Now I deserve a small reward Don't want my birthday suit I want to wear my umbilical cords (You know, the ones with the jumbo flare with the spot of blood around the cuff) Mummy dearest, mother mine Look what the stork brought back I don't want no damp bunk bed I want my foetal sack I was a sad lonely child I wish that you'd had twins And if you can spare the room Ma I'd like to bring some friends Mummy dearest, mother mine It's me your pookie bear I don't want to hurt you Or soil your underwear 'Cause you're my guru, my ma My host, my home, my mentor We could have a three course meal If we boil up the old placenta (Finger lickin' good ma)