You know, the Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
(Well . . . )
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me

Well, the Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Now, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
(Well . . . )
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said:
"You might not believe this, little fella, but it'll cure your Asthma too!"
An' I said, "Oh, really?"
Look here brother,
(Look here brother)
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?)
Look here brother,
(Peek-a-boo!)
Don't you waste your time on me

Napoleon!

I've got troubles of my own, I said
An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"BUT I'VE GOT A KRISTL BOL!," he said
An' he held it on up to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
An' I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
An' everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around,
I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just went down . . . "
Look here brother,
(Look here brother!)
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?)
Don't you know,
You could make more money as a butcher,
So don't you waste your time on me

Thank you!

Well, folks, here's the deal.

We're making a movie. There's a camera up there, there's a camera up there, there's a camera right here, there's a camera back there, there's lights all over this place yet all make believe. That's right, there's no film in the cameras. We're just pretending. See? So you just relax, and if the lights happen to go on, you just pretend there's no film in the camera because we may have you do something amusing later.

Ah, we didn't have a chance to make one of those fantastic glorious entrances they have in Hollywood, but I want to introduce all the members of the group to you, so, let's do that right now. This is Bruce Fowler on trombone.

Napoleon Murphy Brock on tenor sax.

Ruth Underwood on percussion.

Ralph Humphrey on drums.

Chester Thompson on drums.

Tom Fowler on bass.

And George Duke on keyboards!

Alright. What we'll play now? Mmmh . . . No, no, no, no . . . I wanna play— We have some new songs [...]. Okay, here's a group of three of them. The first one is called "Pygmy Twylyte." It's a song about chemical alterations [...] high over. [...]. And then after the song about the [...] of youth, we have "The Idiot Bastard Son," which is a song about . . . Alright. And then after "Idiot Bastard Son" we have another new song that's about monster movies. It's called "A Little More Cheepnis Please."

As a matter of fact, maybe I should tell you in detail what's happening in "A Little More Cheepnis" as the words will go by pretty fast. Well, uh, some of you maybe fond of monster movies—I am, I watch 'em all the time on television, I think that the cheaper they are, the better they are.

The golden age of the science-fiction movies was the '50s, when they are in black & white and you can see the caves bending [...] the caves. Whenever the giant spider came out you can see the strings, you can see the fake [...] coming out of the thing. That to me, ladies and gentlemen, is great art. [...] Really cheap, but it's great art. And then, uh, if you— if you get off on that stuff too maybe you can dig the song better. Anyway, here is "Pygmy Twylyte."

Everybody get on the good— Oh, [...].

Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte

Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite

Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight

Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte

Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete

Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney & he's fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite

Sunrise
Get up in the mornin'
Get outside
Oh, it must be Sunday mornin'
Now let me tell you what happened to me this other day
The sun was shinin'
Grab my hat
[...]
I take a walk downtown
[...]
I ran into a man [...]
He said, "Look here, buddy, wanna tell you somethin',
Take you to a better place."
No no no no no no no no no no no no no
[...]
He said, "Do you wanna get high?"
I said, "No no no
I really don't need it"
[...]
I tell you, hold it up
[...] roll it up,
Put it in my mouth
[...]

Green hocker croakin'
In the Pygmy Twylyte

Crankin' an' a-coke'n
In the Winchell's do-nut Midnite

Out of his deep on a 'fore day run
Hurtin' for sleep in the Quaalude Moonlight

Green hocker in a Greyhound locker
Smokin' in the Pygmy Twylyte

Joined the bus on the 33rd seat
By the doo-doo room with the reek replete

Crystal eye, crystal eye
Got a crystal kidney & he's fraid to die
In the Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite
Pygmy Twylyte
Downer midnite

The idiot bastard son:
(THE FATHER'S A NAZI IN CONGRESS TODAY . . .
THE MOTHER'S A HOOKER SOMEWHERE IN L.A.)

The idiot bastard son:
(ABANDONED TO PERISH IN BACK OF A CAR . . .
KENNY WILL STASH HIM AWAY IN A JAR)
THE IDIOT BOY!

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
At the church he'd attend . . .
Warming his pew

Kenny will feed him & Ronnie will watch
THE CHILD WILL THRIVE & GROW
And enter the world
Of liars & cheaters & people like you
Who smile & think they know
What this is about

(YOU THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING . . . maybe so)
The song we sing: DO YOU KNOW?
We're listening . . .

Try and imagine
A window all covered in green
All the time he would spend
All the colors he'd blend . . .
Where are they now?

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
And then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

I ate a hot dog
It tasted real good
Then I watched a movie
From Hollywood

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me, yeah
Took a turn around, I said: Can y'all see? Yeah
The little strings on the Giant Spider?
The Zipper From The Black Lagoon?
(HA HA HA HA-HA!)
The vents by the tanks where the bubbles go up?
(And the flaps on the side of the moon)

The jelly & paint on the 40 watt bulb
They use when the slime droozle off
The rumples & the wrinkles in the cardboard rock, yeah
And the canvas of the cave is too soft

The suits & the hats & the tie's too wide
And too short for the scientist man
The chemistry lady with the roll-away mind, yeah
While the monster just ate Japan

Ladies and gentlemen,
The monster,
Which the peasants in this area call FRUNOBULAX
Has just been seen approaching The Power Plant
Bullets can't stop it
Rockets can't stop it
Grenades can't stop it
[...] can't even stop it
We have to
We have to
We may have to use NUCLEAR FORCE at once!

C'mon! Everybody! [...]

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

GO TO DA SHELTER
MY BABY, MY BABY,
GO TO DA SHELTER
GO TO DA SHELTER

Little Miss Muffet on a squat by me,
Can ya see the little strings danglin' down?
Makes the legs go wobble an' the mouth flop shut, yeah
An' the HORRIBLE EYE,
An' that HORRIBLE EYE,
An' that HORRIBLE EYE
Go rollin' around

Can y'see it at all
Can y'see it from here
Can y'laugh till yer weak on yer knees
(HA HA!)
If you can't, I'm sorry 'cause that's all I wanna know, yeah
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis please
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
(Cheeper the better)
Baby, I'm sorry 'cause it's all I wanna know
I need a little more cheepnis . . .

Now as some of you may know Hollywood is the best of all possible worlds. I mean, this is where it's all happening, you understand? See, it's really great here and it's a— it's so wonderful to be in Hollywood, to live here and to be a part of this community and everything, because there's so many perverts in it, you know? And pervert, perverts help to make normal people look good, and so . . . Just remember that, whenever you see somebody who is perverted. But for our friends in the pervert world we have this song which is called "Penguin In Bondage." And you know what I mean, don't you?

This is really a funky one, you know what I mean.

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh . . .
Way over on the wet side
Of the bed

Just like the mighty Penguin
Flappin' her eight ounce wings
(Bring the band on down behind me, boys!)

Lord, you know it's all over
If she come atcha on the strut & wrap 'em all around yer head
Flappin' her eight ounce wings, flappinumm

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy

Shake up the pale-dry
Ginger ale

Tremblin' like a Penguin
When the battery fail
(You know when the battery goes out in the vibrator and everything?)

Lord, you must be havin' her jumpin' through a hoopa real fire
With some Kleenex wrapped around a coat-hang wire

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh . . .
Howlin' over to some
Antarcticulated moon

In the frostbite nite
With her flaps gone white
Shriekin' as she spot the hoop across the room
(Good God, she spot the hoop again)

You know it must be a Penguin bound down
If you hear that terrible screamin' and there ain't no other
Birds around

She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh . . .
She's just like a Penguin in Bondage, boy
Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh . . .
Aw, you must be careful
Not to leave her straps
TOO LOOSE

'Cause she just might box yer dog
'Cause she just might box yer dog
An' leave you a dried-up dog biscuit . . .

The name of this song is "T'Mershi Duween," a bongo number . . .

HEY!

 

Thank you.

(Brian, can you turn the horns up some more in this monitor box down here? What? It's not in that one up there. It was? Alright, turn a little bit up in the upper horns too. Bruce is having trouble hearing himself.)

We're gonna do a song now about dental floss.

This song goes out to Mario who makes [...] bare hands.

Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch real close because tonight we're gonna try something we never tried before. Many of you who might know the song about dental floss which is called "Montana." On the record there is a little section where there's girl voices that are speeded up are signing something really complicated and really fast. Well, tonight, Tom Fowler is gonna play that part on the bass.

[...] words [...].

The end of the song goes into another song called "Dupree's Paradise," but that shouldn't bother you. Okay?

One, two, one-two-three-four . . .

I might be movin' to Montana soon
Just to raise me up a crop of
Dental Floss

Raisin' it up
Waxen it down
In a little white box
That I can sell uptown

But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
(Take it away!)

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I just might grow me some bees
But I'd leave the sweet stuff
To somebody else . . . oh but then, on the other hand I would

Keep the wax
Melt it down
Pluck the Floss
'N swish it aroun'

And I would have me a crop
An' it'd be on top (that's why I'm movin' to Montana)

Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a Dental Floss tycoon (yes I am)
Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune

I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
That's growin' on the prairie
Pluckin' the floss!
I plucked all day an' all nite an' all
Afternoon . . .

Well, I'm ridin' a small tiny hoss
(His name is MIGHTY LITTLE)
He's a good hoss
Even though
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
He's a bit dinky to strap a big saddle or
Blanket on anyway
Any way

I'm pluckin' the ol'
Dennil Floss
Even if you think it is a little silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks
I don't care if you think it's silly, folks

I'm gonna find me a horse
Just about this big,
An' ride him all along the border line

With a
Pair of heavy-duty
Zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand
Every other wrangler would say
I was mighty grand

But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I might
Ride along the border
With my tweezers gleamin'
In the moon-lighty night
(A little tweezer glint)

And then I'd
Get a cuppa cawfee
'N give my foot a push . . .
Just me 'n the pygmy pony
Over by the Dennil Floss Bush

'N then I might just
Jump back on
An' ride
Like a cowboy
Into the dawn to Montana

Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Well, I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
I'm movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Look out!