Song timings and track separations based on the Universal 2012 CD version.
MoireBozzio: Ee-el-el-ahL-l-l . . .
O'Hearn: Listen now . . .
MoireBozzio: Father I'm glad you're here . . . I want you to hear this . . . I have a confession to make, you know?
O'Hearn: Well, spit it out, son
MoireBozzio: Ee-el-eel-el-el-ellL-l-l-l-l-l-LEATHER . . .
O'Hearn: Well, don't be ashamed
Bozzio: God, that was really beautiful . . .
O'Hearn: Ha-uh . . .
A little green rosetta
Little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
Make a muffin better
Make a muffin better
With a green rosetta
A green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
A little green rosetta
You'll make a muffin better . . .
Whereupon the door closes violently!
Moire?Bozzio:What?
O'Hearn: Heh heh heh ye-yes!
Roy:
I never thought you'd go from me
Now that you're gone
I miss you so much
Nice...wheep wheep...Wha-Wha-Whatcha gonna do when the well runs dry?
O'Hearn: Oh-ooh-h listen to him go!
O'Hearn: Why don't you take it down to C-sharp, Ernie?
Roy: Whatcha gonna do when the well runs dry-y-y-y?
Bozzio: Talk him down, Vic . . .
Moire: Mmm . . .
O'Hearn: Come on down, Johnny . . .
Moire: Okay . . .
Moire?: Yeah
O'Hearn?: Nope
Uh-uh-uh-un-ha-ahh!
Baby baby why you cryin'
I'm feeling sorry what she said
Put down that rag, I told her then
Don't wanna hear you cry again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
You know she I went to see the doctor
And then she I read a magazine
Forget that book, I told her then
Don't wanna hear about the book again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
There was a picture on the story
That showed a young sophisticator
Who falls in love three pages later
With some aggressive agitator
And by and by he comes to hate her
'Cause she don't shave her underarms
And he can't go for that
'Cause he's a young sophisticator
(He's so sophisticated!)
Baby baby why you cryin'
It made me wonder what she said
Forget that book I told her then
Don't wanna hear 'bout about the book again
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, tell me what's the reason
Dear heart, dear heart
Tell me, Why don't you tell me what's the reason
Would you still love me if my hair grew
All down the side of my kimono
Well of course I would, it might be hip
If it did not cause you to trip
Dear heart, dear heart
Or radiate a bad aroma
Dear heart, dear heart
Or radiate a cheap aroma
Dear heart, dear heart
(Dearest heart)
Or radia-iate, or radia-ia-ia-iate a Butzis cheesey aroma
FZ: Sick!
O'HearnMoire: Leather!
Bozzio: Ungh . . . ungh . . . ungh . . .
Roy: Unnh-ooh-oooh . . .
O'HearnMoire: Leather . . .
Bozzio: What?
O'HearnMoire: Leather!
HeyYes! I'm only fourteen
Sickly 'n thin
Tried all of my life
Just to grow me a chin
It popped out once
Yes, but my dad pushed it in
Tell me, why did he hurt me?
Lord, he's my next of kin . . .
He's a mex-i-kin
I'm lonely 'n green;
Too small for my shirt
If Simmons was here
I could feature my hurt
I'm scared of the future
Yes, and I hope I don't grow
I know Listen here, nobody likes me
'Cause everywhere that I go
They say NO
They say NO
They say NO
Hey! Now I'm older
Got a place in the town, babe
Got a chin on my shoulder
'N it keeps growing down 'n down 'n down
I'm horny 'n lonely
(Yes, I am!)
'N I wish I was dead
Listen! Why am I livin'?
Lord, I wanna be dead instead
That's right, I said
I wanna be dead instead
Okay, now dig this:
I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
(That's right)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
(Hey!)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
(Lord!)
In bed
(I wanna be dead instead)
Please kill me
(Be dead in bed, yeah)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
In bed
(Well, just as sure as my name is Terry Ted, Terry Ted)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Kill me!)
I wanna be dead
(Thrill me!)
In bed
(Fill me!)
Please kill me
(With some love)
'Cause that would thrill me
(Every night)
I wanna be dead
(How 'bout You know you)
In bed
(It's You drivin' me crazy)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Hey, don't you wanna . . . )
Bozzio: Ungh . . . ungh . . . ungh . . .
O'Hearn: Whadya say we go down the street for a few minutes?
MoireBozzio: No . . . no go on that . . . I, uh . . .
O'HearnMoire: I You don't like fag bars?
MoireBozzio: No
O'HearnMoire?O'Hearn: Well, try 'em!
Come on! Hey! Do you know what you are?
You're an asshole! An ASSHOLE!Hey!
Some of you might not agree
'Cause you probably likes a lot of misery
But think a while and you will see . . .
(Take a while, you'll see)
Broken hearts are for assholes
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole?
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole too?
Whatcha gonna do, 'cause you're an asshole . . .
No no no, yeah yeah yeah
Hey! You're an ASSHOLE!
Maybe you think you're a lonely guy
Maybe you think you're too tough to cry
So you went to The Grape,
Just to give it a try
(Just to give it a try)
And Dagmar
(Without a doubtPossibly, the ugliest sonofabitch I've ever saw seen in my life)
Was his name . . .
(Handle-Bar Johnny's)
The whiskers sticking out from underneath of his
Pancake make-up
(Alive and living in LEATHER)
Nearly drove you insane
(Awright, what you been waiting for?)
And so you kissed a little sailor
(Coming up next week at The Grape, something new, something exciting)
Who had just blew in from Spain
(You can get a few of these lovely little sailors to roll the stage back)
And pull the chain attached to the permanently-erected nipples of Jimmy
(It's showtime! Nice)
In a bold salute to pain
(Awright do you remember FiFi Dupree?)
You sniffed the reeking buns of Angel
(Formerly Buddy Love the Baron Of Beef)
And acted like it was cocaine
(And Mmm . . . coming next week a Grape salute to S&M)
You were dazzled by the exciting new costume of Ko-Ko
(On Thursday night, a fine tribute: LEATHER!)
In a way you can't explain
(No one can salute leather without saluting Puerto Rico!)
And so you worked the wall with Michael
(Then we may come in up next Tuesday)
Which gave your back an awful strain
(Uhhh-nhh . . . )
But you came back on Sunday for the gong show
(In crushed velvet or leather)
But you forgot what I was sayin'
'Cause you're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, 'n you're an asshole
Yes, yes That's right
You're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, 'n you're an asshole
Yeah-hey! That's right! You're an aiee-asshole!
You say you can't live with what you've been through
Well, ladies you can be an asshole too
You might pretend you ain't got one on the bottom of you
But don't fool yerself girl
It's lookin' at you
Don't fool yerself girl
It's winkin' at you
(Hey!)
Don't fool yerself girl
It's blinkin' at you
That's why I sayGonna ram it, ram it, ram it
I'm
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Cock ring)
(Chick-a-pttthh . . . )
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Leather)
(Knockwurst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Shausage)
(Bockwurst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Scabies)
(Weissburst)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Volume)
(Chick-a-pttthh)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
It's goin' right Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Chick-a-pttthh)
(Nice)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
It's goin' right Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Asshole)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer poooop chute
(Ay ay ay ay ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
(Gonna ram it, gonna ram it . . . )
Gonna ram it up yer . . .
O'Hearn: Yeah . . . I knew you'd be surprised . . .
FZ: And now folks, it's time for Don Pardo to deliver our special Illinois Enema Bandit-type announcement. Take it away, Don!
Don Pardo: This is a true story about a famous criminal from right around Chicago. This is the story of Michael Kenyon, a man who's serving time at this very moment for the crime of armed robbery. It so happens, that at the time of these robberies, Michael decided to give his female victims a little enema—apparently, there was no law against that. But his name lives on—Michael Kenyon, THE ILLINOIS ENEMA BANDIT!
The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard he's on the loose
I heard he's on the loose
Lord, the pitiful screams
Of all them college-educated women . . .
He'd just be tyin' 'em up
(They'd be all bound down!)
Just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard it on the news
I heard it on the news
Bloomington Illinois . . . he has caused some alarm
Just sneakin' around there
From farm to farm
He's got a rubberized bag
And a hose on his arm
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
The Illinois Enema Bandit
One day he'll have to pay
Some day he'll have to pay
The police will say, "You're under arrest!"
And the judge would have him for a special guest
Then the D.A. will order a secret test
Stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
Then they'll put out a call-yooou! for the jury folks
(That's you over there)
And the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
Then they'll drag in the bandit for all to see,
Sayin' "Don't nobody, no no, have no sympathy . . .
HOT SOAPY WATER in the FIRST DEGREE!"
And then the Bandit might say, "Why is everybody lookin' at me?"
DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS KINDA MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
Well, one girl shout: "Let the Bandit be!"
BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY?
BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY?
TELL ME NOW, WHAT'S YOUR PLEA?
Another girl shout: "Let the fiend go free!"
ARE YOU GUILTY? BANDIT, DID YOU DO THESE DEEDS?
COME ON, NOW
He said, "It must be just what they all need . . . "
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
(That's right!)
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
(Over there)
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
(Help me out now!)
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
(That's right)
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"Don't you know it must be just what they all need . . . "
(That's it!)
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"Don't you know it must be just what they all need . . . "
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be . . . hey!
Talkin' bout them Illinois . . .
Illinois . . .
Ain't talkin' 'bout Fontana . . . ha . . .
Ain't talkin' 'bout Po-head-otated . . . ha . . .
(I'll try again . . . )
Potato Headed Bobby
Talkin' 'bout the Illinois Enema Bandit
Yeah yeah yeah
FZ: Wait a minute, this is for Roy Estrada, wherever he is . . .
Wanna-wanna-wannanenema
An enema
Wanna-wanna-wannanenema
An enema
I wanna-wanna-wannanenema
Eh . . .
Take it away!
The Illinois Enema Bandit
(The Enema Bandit)
The Enema Bandit
(The Enema Bandit)
The Enema Bandit
Talkin' bout the Illinois Enema Bandit . . .
( . . . It can't happen here!)
Juice!
FZ: Awright-awright! Ray White, the assistant Illinois Enema Bandit, live on stage here in New York . . . ! That's it . . . sit right down and make yourselves comfortable . . .
Lemme take you to the beach
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lemme take you to the beach
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh
Bring the the weenies
I'll bring the soft drinks
And the cookies
Everybody's in love!
Lemme take you to a show
Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo
Lemme take you to a show
Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wohhh
Eat a candy! You are dandy! Can I kiss you?
Maybe I'll just hold your hand-eeee!
Lemme take you to the beach again
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lemme take you to the beach again
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lahhh
At the freak-out
Later we'll peak out
You're on restriction
So you'll probably sneak out!
Bozzio: It's gone . . .
O'Hearn: What? Your talent for sucking?
Bozzio: I . . .
O'Hearn: Never . . .
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
His fav'rite phrase was "OUTA-SITE!"
He had an Irish Setter
(Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Arf!)
It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
The moon was dim, the band was tight
They did the Bump together
What a splendid sight
(Roon doon doon doon)
Her teeth were white
(Oo-ah oo-oooh)
The drinks were cheap (it was Ladies Nite)
He was glad that he met her
She was an office girl ("My name is Betty")
Her fav'rite group was HELEN REDDY
(They discussed the weather)
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Man!
She was a lonely sort, just a little too short
Her jokes were dumb and her fav'rite sport
Was hockey (in the winter)
He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
Any sport with a PUCK had to be 'bout the best
As he jabbed his elbow in her (get it honey? Get it?)
Later on they went off to where the music was soft,
The candles were drippy, they saw a REAL HIPPY
Who delivered their dinner
The rice was brown, and soon they found
That the crowd around that had jammed the room,
Well it seemed to be getting thinner
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Man!
He took her home to a motor court
She would not wouldn't kiss him, he tried to ignore it,
But it made him angry! (Angry! It made me angry!
Why it made me so angry
I COULD HAVE KILLED THAT LOUSY BITCH!)
He called her a slut
(Slut slut slut . . . )
A pig
(Pig pig pig . . . )
And a whore
(Whore whore whore . . . )
A bitch
(Bitch bitch bitch . . . )
And a cunt
(Cunt cunt cunt . . . )
And she slammed the door
(The door!)
In a petulant frenzy!
(A petulant frenzy!
This is a petulant
Frenzy!
I'm petulant,
And I'm having a frenzy!)
Guy In The Audience: Fuck you!
FZ: Fuck you too, buddy. You know what I mean? Fuck you very much.
On the sofa she weeps
BOO HOO HOO HOO
She weeps and she weeps
BOO HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO
She weeps and she peeps
Through the curtain
He just got in his car
But the battery's dead
So he asked to use the phone
And she gives him some head
And that's the end of the story
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Baby don't you want a
Man!
Baby don't you want a man sometimes?
Bozzio: Wait a minute; we gotta get somethin' happenin' here. He's in there spendin' thousands of dollars 'n shit . . . We should make this worthwhile. We should . . . We should get into something REAL
O'Hearn: Ho Ho
Moire: LEATHER!
Bozzio: No, man, he's not interested in Leather . . . shit . . . That shit's been fuckin' rubbed in the ground . . . Hmmmm . . . Christ, that's goin' on two tours old now . . . We gotta come up with some new shit . . .
O'Hearn: Oh-ho-ho-you don't think so, huh?
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She was my steady date
Until she put on weight
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma
(Dip!
Too-koo-too koo-too-koo
Too-koo-too too-koo-too)
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma
(Dip!
Boogedy boogedy
Boogedy boogedy)
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
FZ: Thank you!
Moire: What ever happened to all the fun in the world?
O'Hearn?: Gurh-gurh-gurh-gurhg . . .
Don Pardo: In today's rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device. Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers. One such case is seated before you, live on stage—yes, Terry Bozzio . . .
Terry: That's meeee!
Don Pardo: That cute little drummer. Terry recently fell in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called ANGEL. In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pooched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus.
Terry: Ooh, Punky.
Don Pardo: The sight of which drove the helpless drummer mad with desire!
I can't stand the way he pouts
'Cause he might not be pouting for me!
(Hah! Pouting for you?
Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?)
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
'Til I squirm with ecstasy!
Squirm with ecstasy . . .
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . .
Oh, Punky, Isn't it romantic, Punky?
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the shits
It's all wrong . . . but listen, this is no laughing matter
I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
Pay to see
Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . .
PUNKY
(What's up, baby?So what's happenin', man?)
You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh . . . , you know that's the kind of stuff that I like to hear)
You're too much
He's been havin' a rash
(No shit)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say
I wonder if Punky is rehearsin' today
I'll just go over, 'n hear him play
His hair is so pretty . . . I'd like to bite his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
Dig this . . .
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array
A wrist array)
That's all it is
Punky's lips, Punky's lips
Oh, I love his hair, eatin' dunk-y chips
Yes, I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY! YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER! YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY! GET FUNKY!
I AIN'T QUEER
(NO NO NO NO)
I AIN'T GAY
(NO NO NO NO)
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array
A wrist array)
One more time for the world!
(And then he said:)
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array)
I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
I'm a little Lord, I'm fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey
Come on, Punky!
FZ: Thank You. Terry Bozzio, Ladies and gentleman ladies and gentlemen!
MoireBozzio?: There it is . . .
O'Hearn: Bill, look at it . . . ain't she a beauty . . .
MoireBozzio: It's . . . it's breathtaking . . .
O'Hearn: Sh . . . sh . . . she musta cost you a small fortune . . . whadya pay for it?
MoireBozzio: An arm and a leg . . . Christ, are you kidding? . . . Shit, I'm in hock up to my godamned eyeballs . . .
O'Hearn: Tse-heh-heh-heh-heh-ha-ha . . .
Bozzio: Tsh-nnghHEH-heh-heh . . .
Dale: Ahhhh!
O'Hearn: Ooo-oo-oo-oh, yes!
MoireBozzio: What?!
O'HearnMoire?: Ahhh . . . smell it . . .
Moire: Sniff . . . Nn-hng . . . awwh?...
O'Hearn: Oh, . . .hold come on
Moire: Uh-huhm . . .
O'Hearn: Say, uh . . . you still bowling?
Louis The Turkey: Uh . . . heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh . . .
Bozzio: Larry's not with us any more; he went on y'know
O'Hearn: Yeah
Bozzio: Yeah . . . He bit the big one
O'Hearn: Hah-hah!
Bozzio: Ahem . . . Yeah . . . Well, he's got his own little piece of heaven now
O'Hearn: Hhh! Hah-hah-hah . . .
O'Hearn: Uh, wish he'd play something else . . . 'Cause, uh, they just aren't gonna stand for it . . .
It was the blackest night
There was no moon in sight
You know the stars ain't shinin'
'Cause the sky's too tight
I heard the scarey wind
I seen some ugly trees
There was a werewolf honkin'
'Long the side of me
I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy
Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy
Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me . . .
'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery
I noticed even the crickets
Were actin' weird up here
'N so I figured I might
Just drink a little beer
I said, "Gimme summa that what yer suckin' on . . . "
But there was no reply
'Cause she was gone . . .
"Where's those titties I like so well, 'n my goddamn beer!"
Is what I started to yell, then I heard this noise
Like a crunchin' twig, 'n up jumped the Devil . . .
He's about this big . . .
He had a red suit on
An' a widow's peak
An' then a pointed tail
'N like a sulphur reek
Yes, it was him awright,
I sweared I knowed it was
He had some human flesh
Stuck underneath his claws
You know, it looked to me
Like it was titty skin
I said, "You sonofabitch!"
'Cause I was mad at him,
Well he just got out his floss
'N started cleanin' his fang
So I shot him with my shooter,
Said: BANG BANG BANG
Then the sucker just laughed 'n said:
Terry:
Oh, put it away . . .
You know, I ate her all up . . . now what you gonna say?
FZ:
You ate my Chrissy?
Terry:
Titties 'n all!
FZ:
Well, what about the beer then, boy?
Terry:
Ah . . . Were the cans this tall?
FZ:
Even her boots?
Terry:
Would I lie to you?
FZ:
Shit, you musta been hungry!
Terry:
Yes, this is true.
FZ:
Don't they pay you good
For the stuff that you do?
Terry:
Well, you know
I can't complain when the checks come through . . .
FZ:
Well I want my Chrissy,
'N I want my beer
So you just barf it back up
Now, Devil, do you hear?
Terry:
Blow it out your ass, motorcycle man!
I mean, I am the Devil,
Do you understand?
Just what will you give me for your
Titties and beer?
I suppose you noticed this little contract here . . .
FZ:
Yer goddam right, you
Son-of-a-whore
Terry:
Don't call me that!
FZ:
That's about the only reason I learned writin' for . . .
Gimme that paper . . . bet yer ass I will sign . . .
Because I need a beer,
'N it's titty-squeezin' time!
Terry:
Man, you can't fool me . . . you ain't that bad . . .
I mean you shoulda seen some of the souls that I've had . . .
FZ:
Oh, yeah?
Terry:
Why there was Milhous Nixon 'n Agnew, too . . .
'N both of those suckers was worse 'n you . . .
FZ:
Well, let's make a deal if you think that's true
I mean, you're the Devil so . . .
Whatcha gonna do?
Terry: Wait a minute, a tinge of doubt crosses my mind when you say that you want to make a deal with me.
FZ: That's very, very true . . .
Terry: Wait, you ain't supposed to wanna make a deal with me.
FZ: Ah, but I'm slightly different than your average customer, Devil.
Terry: But, wait, but most people don't want to make a deal with me. Wha . . .
FZ: Yeah . . .
Terry: What's your story?
FZ: Well, most people are afraid of you, see? They don't know how stupid you are—I happen to know that you jack off to a picture of Punky Meadows when you get home.
Terry: Grrah . . . Stupid . . . Grrh . . .
FZ: You know, ever since that guy told you that he contained more fluid than Jeff Beck you've been tryin' to outdo him. Awright, look, I'm gonna say one thing to you—this may not register right away, but let me say this— I'm only interested in two things.
Terry: Yeah .
FZ: See if you can guess what they are.
Terry: I would think . . . uh . . . let's see, maybe . . . uh . . .
FZ: Well, I'll give you . . .
Terry: Stravinsky . . . and, uh . . .
FZ: I'll give you two clues.
Terry: . . . let's see . . . uh . . .
FZ: Let go of your pickle.
Terry: What?
FZ: Let go of your pickle!
Terry: I'm not holding my pickle.
FZ: Well, who's holding your pickle then?
Terry: I don't know . . . ha! She's out in the audience. Hey, Dale, would you like to come up here and hold my pickle to satisfy this weird man out here on the stage?
FZ: I'm only interested in two things, that's titties and beer, you know what I mean?
Terry: What?
FZ: Yeah.
Terry: Titties and beer?
FZ: Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry: (Growling) Whoa, I don't know if you're the right guy!
FZ: . . . titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry:
No! Don't sign it! Give me time to think . . .
I mean . . .
FZ:
Alright!
Terry:
Hold on a second, boy . . .
'Cause that's Magic Ink!
And then the Devil let go of his pickle
'N out jumped m'girl
They heard the titties PLOP-PLOPPIN'
All around the world, she said:
"I GOT ME THREE BEERS 'N A FIST FULLA DOWNS,
AN' I'M GONNA GET RIPPED, SO FUCK YOU CLOWNS!"
Then she gave us the finger,
It was rigid 'n stiff,
That's when the Devil, he farted
An' she went right over the cliff
The Devil was mad
I took off to my pad
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
Bozzio: One more time for the world!
[1:57]
O'Hearn: Damn it!
Narrator:
The adventures of GREGGERY PECCARY!
Greggery:
Oh, here comes GREGGERY,
Little GREGGERY PECCARY
The nocturnal gregarious
Wild swine . . .
Narrator:
A peccary is a little pig with a white collar that usually hangs around between Texas and Paraguay, sometimes ranging as far west as Catalina
Greggery:
Catalina, Catalina, Catalina!
Narrator:
This particular peccary is part of that bold . . .
Greggery:
Bold . . .
Narrator:
New . . .
Greggery:
New . . .
Narrator:
Breed . . .
Greggery:
Breeding . . .
Narrator:
That distinguishes itself by markings which resemble a WIDE TIE directly below the white collar
Greggery:
If it's wide enough
Everyone will know
That the tie I'm wearing
Is a symbol
Of how nimble my mind will know
Ooh-ooh!
Narrator:
(Swank suave!)
Greggery:
Hoon-hoon hoonna-han
Hoonna hoonna
Narrator:
Look out!
Here he comes again!
Greggery:
Oh here comes GREGGERY PECCARY
Yes it's cravy, cravy, yeah . . .
Hoonna-han
Hoonna-han
Narrator:
Every morning, GREGGERY drives his little red Volkswagen to the ugly part of town where they keep the Government Buildings.
Greggery:
Voodn, Voodn!
Boy it's so hard to find a place to park around here!
Voo-voo-voo-nya-hoon
Narrator:
GREGGERY PECCARY takes the elevator up to the eighty-third floor of a grim, gray, evil-looking building with a sign on the front reading: 'BIG SWIFTY & ASSOCIATES, TREND-MONGERS'.
And what, might you ask, is a TREND MONGER? Well, a TREND MONGER is a person who dreams up a TREND (like 'The Twist'—or 'Flower Power'), and spreads it throughout the land, using all the frightening little skills that Science has made available!
And so it was, one fateful morning, GREGGERY PECCARY made his way through the Steno Pool . . .
Greggery:
Hi Mildred!
Hello Gladys!
WANDA!
Narrator:
Yes, from the moment they laid eyes on him, all the girls in the BIG SWIFTY Steno Pool KNEW . . . here was a nocturnal, gregarious wild swine ON HIS WAY UP . . . a PECCARY of Destiny, Adventure and ROMANCE . . .
Greggery:
Is there any mail for me?
Stenographers:
SWIFTY'S!
THIS IS BIG SWIFTY'S!
AT BIG SWIFTY'S WE ALL KNOW-OW-OW
(WO-WO)
YOU'LL GO
FOR ANY GIMMICK OR GIZMO!
Greggery:
WOULDN'T YOU RATHER BE INVOLVED
IN A SERIES OF COLORFUL
TIME-WASTING TRENDS?
Narrator:
AIR HOCKEY . . . biff . . . dush-h-h!
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
IS YOUR WIFE SNORING BY THE SINK?
Stenographers:
LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA
YOUP YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
AIN'T YOUR LIFE BORING, DON'TCHA THINK?
Stenographers:
YOUP YOUP YOUP-YOUP-YOUP YOUP YOUP
Greggery:
LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER
WHEN THERE'S SOME LITTLE SOMETHING
TO DO!
Narrator:
Does it matter that this waste of time is what makes a LIFE for you? Hmmmmm?
Greggery:
I must plummet boldly forward to my ultra-avant laminated, simulated replica-mahogany desk, with the strategically-placed, imported, very hip water pipe, and the latest edition of the WHOLE EARTH CATALOG, and rack my agile mind for a spectacular new TREND, thereby rejuvenating our limping economy, and providing for bored & miserable people everywhere some great new 'THING' to identify with!
Stenographers:
WE HAVE GOT THE LITTLE ANSWERS
TO THE THINGS
THAT MIGHT BE BOTHERING YOU!
Greggery:
WE HAVE GOT YOUR LITTLE TOYS!
Stenographers:
(WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM!)
BUSY MAKIN' 'EM,
WE'RE BUSY MAKIN' 'EM
Greggery:
BUSY MAKIN' EM
Stenographers:
JUST FOR YOU!
Yoo-hoo-hoo!
Greggery:
Highly efficient, Miss Snodgrass!
Narrator:
And with that, GREGGERY turned and strode nonchalantly into his dinky little office with the desk and the catalog and the very hip water pipe, and proceeded, with a vigor and determination known only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR!
With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny pig-hoofs on the desk, GREGGERY ponders the question of ETERNITY (and fractional divisions thereof), as mysterious ANGELIC VOICES sing to him from a great distance, providing the necessary clues for the construction of this thrilling new TREND!
Angelic Voices:
SUNDAY
Greggery:
Sunday?
WOW!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY . . . TUESDAY THROUGH
'MONDAY—MONDAY'!
SUNDAY, SATURDAY
Narrator:
And thus THE CALENDAR, in all of its colorful disguises was presented to the bored & miserable people everywhere!
GREGGERY issued a memo on it, whereupon the entire contents of the Steno Pool identified with it STRENUOUSLY, and WORSHIPPED IT as a WAY OF LIFE, and took their little pills by it, and went back 'n forth from work by it, and paid their rent by it, and before long they were even having BIRTHDAY PARTIES IN THE OFFICE by it, because NOW, AT LAST, GREGGERY PECCARY's exciting new invention had made it possible for everyone to find out HOW OLD THEY WERE!
Greggery:
What hath GOD wrought?
Narrator:
Unfortunately, there were some people who simply DID NOT WISH TO KNOW, and that's why, on his way home from the office one night, GREGGERY was attacked by a RAGE OF HUNCHMEN!
Making his way through the evening traffic, GREGGERY notices that the other vehicles which crowd and bump his little red car are all inhabited by slowly-aging 'VERY HIP YOUNG PEOPLE.'
They appear to be casting sinister glances toward him through their glinting acid burn-out eyeballs, trying to run him off the road, or make him bump into something . . . giving strong evidence of HOSTILE AGGRESSION!
To elude them, GREGGERY takes the SHORT FOREST EXIT off the expressway. They zoom after him in all manner of cars, trucks, garishly-painted buses, and motorcycles.
GREGGERY takes a bumpy trail off the main SHORT FOREST ROAD, which leads him up the side of a FAMOUS (and conveniently placed) MOUNTAIN, and into a strange cave on the edge of a cliff, not far from a LITTLE TWISTED TREE . . . with eyes on it.
Meanwhile, the enraged HUNCHMEN (and HUNCH-WOMEN) rumble through the SHORT FOREST until (realizing the little swine has escaped), they decide to park their steaming vehicles in a circular pseudo-Wagon Train formation . . . and have a LOVE-IN!
Under the influence of a fantastic amount of TRENDY CHEMICAL AMUSEMENT AID, they proceed to perform lewd acts, rip each other off for small personal possessions, and dance with depraved abandon in the vicinity of a six-foot pile of transistor radios (each one tuned to a different station).
Greggery:
WHAT?
Narrator:
The HUNCHMEN finally expire from exhaustion, and GREGGERY, who has viewed the proceedings from a safe distance, breathes a sigh of relief . . .
Greggery:
Phew!
Narrator:
Only to be terrified once again by a roar of immense laughter . . .
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
Which seems to be rumbling up from the very depths of the cave in which he has hidden his car!
Greggery:
Good Lord! What was that?
Narrator:
GREGGERY doesn't realize he has concealed himself inside the very mouth of
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
BILLY THE MOUNTAIN!
Billy:
HO! HO! HO!
Narrator:
And, as you all know, whenever BILLY laughs, rocks and boulders hack up, and the air for miles around is filled with tons of dust, forming a series of huge BROWN CLOUDS!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
BETTER ASK A PHILOSTOPHER 'N SEE WHAT HE SAYS!
Narrator:
GREGGERY stops at a gas station and makes a mysterious phone call . . .
Greggery:
IS THIS THE OLD LOFT
WITH THE PAINT PEELIN' OFF IT
BY THE CHINESE POLICE
WHERE THE DOGS ROLL BY?
IS THIS WHERE THEY KEEP
THE PHILOSTOPHERS NOW,
WITH THE RUGS & THE DUST,
WHERE THE BOOKS GO TO DIE?
HOW MANY YEZ GOT?
SAY YEZ GOT QUITE A FEW,
JUST SITTIN' AROUND THERE
WITH NOTHIN' TO DO?
WELL I JUST CALLED YEZ UP
'CAUSE I WANTED TO SEE
A PHILOSTOPHER BE
OF ASSISTANCE TO ME!
Narrator:
GREGGERY receives information that 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind' is currently in possession of the very information in question, and, furthermore, this information could be HIS, if only GREGGERY would attend a 'SPECIAL THERAPEUTIC GROUP ASSEMBLY' (Classes now forming), and available at a special low low introductory fee . . . and now, here he is, 'The Greatest Living PHILOSTOPHER Known to Mankind', QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND! Take it away!
Quentin:
Folks, as you can see for yourself, the way this clock over here is behaving, TIME IS OF AFFLICTION! Now this might be cause for alarm among a portion of you, as, from a certain experience, I TEND TO PROCLAIM: 'THE EONS ARE CLOSING'!
Narrator:
Make your checks payable to 'QUENTIN ROBERT DeNAMELAND, Greatest Living Philostopher Known to Mankind'!
Greggery:
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE CLOUDS THESE DAYS?
WHO IS MAKING THOSE NEW BROWN CLOUDS?
IF YOU ASK A PHILOSTOPHER, HE'LL SEE
THAT YOU PAYS!
O'HearnMoire: L-le-leather . . .
FZ: Hey. Awlright. Ladies and gentlemangentlemen, this is Frank Zappa and here comes the Läther album.
Voice: Just what the hell's going on down there anyway? You-you kids quit monkeying with that machinery! Get the hell on itoutta there!
FZ: Uh, Warner Brothers does not have the rights to this material, though although it was delivered to them. Y'see See, this is an eight-sided album. Y'know, they don't happen very often. I had my nerve, didn't I?
FZ: Hoopla! This is Frank Zappa as your bogus temporary disc jockey . . .
Motorhead: Yeah I-I left home. I used to sleep in one of those old stand-up Baldwins, y'know?
Guy In The Audience: Yeah!
John Smothers: "Sure. You got an Bozzio: "Terr, ya gotta upset stomach? I'll I give you some Pepto-Dismal"
FZ: Well, there it was, all eight sides of the Läther album. This has been Frank Zappa as temporary bogus disc jockey and, ahh, good-bye!
O'Hearn: L-le-leather . . .