Lyrics My grandfather’s ferret was a beast of little merit What lived out the back in a cage; If you peered through the bars You’d see eyes like little stars All a-glimmer with impotent rage. Oh the smell it gave off Made you splutter gasp and cough And its habits were exceedingly gross; And it bit off anything it could reach If you stood too close. When that ferret needed feeding Someone always came in bleeding Or looking as white as a sheet; If you opened up the door It was all-out bloody war, And that ferret was dead fast on its feet. It could go for your throat Through two mufflers and a coat, It could savage a finger or two; Then it would sit back with a self-satisfied smirk Like Wellington after Waterloo. One day my Auntie May Went to feed the thing some hay By poking it in through the wire; But thinking that meat Would be more up its street, With a speed that you had to admire It clamped its teeth around her digit And went absolutely rigid— Auntie May nearly went out of her mind; Then the daft cow opened up the door To try and attack it from behind. Well when that ferret saw That she’d opened up the door It was out and upon her in a flash. With a squeal of success It shot straight up her dress, Auntie May wished she’d never been so rash. With its nasty little teeth It bit her underneath, In between, in the front and at the back; And my Aunt May never smiled again- And neither did my Uncle Jack!

Lyrics Well I worked hard all my life, in a job and as a wife, Double shift and not much rest; Year in and year out there was never a doubt that we always did our best. We’re not lax we paid our tax, we’re a hard-working family. Oh I did everything I was supposed to, and still they shat on me (x2) Well I said to my boy, to my pride and my joy, You’ve gotta study hard at school; Don’t be a yob and you’ll get a good job and not end up on the dole. You’ll be able to buy a home and start a family. He said, I did everything I was supposed to, and still they shat on me (x2) Well I hated the hippies and the women at Greenham, They’re not a proper part of society; Dirty and workshy and having fun on the backs of you and me; Single mothers, New Age travellers, but oh how can this be? Cos I hated everyone I was supposed to, and still they shat on me. Yes I hated everyone I was supposed to, and then they came for me.

Lyrics As I was travelling northwards All on a winter’s day I was hitching from a services On the northbound carriageway. Ho hum I thought, how come I thought, It’s dusk and starting rain And here I am at Watford Gap Without my gloves again, Here I am at Watford Gap Without my gloves again! Well the lorry drivers ask you straight, And they’ll take a straightforward no, It’s those middle-aged business-men I hate And their slimy little show. So when he said dear what’s your name I thought hey mate I know your game And that is how I come to be Standing on this sliproad with naff-all passing me Standing on this sliproad with naff-all passing me! Full many an hour and tediously I waited for a ride So when it came I hopped along and I gladly got inside; Oh drat I thought, what luck I thought Oh what a bleeding pain Right to where I want to go with Jesus freaks again— All at thirty miles an hour with Jesus freaks again!

Lyrics The Eton Walk (to the tune of The Lambeth Walk, a song from the 1937 musical Me and My Girl) If you’re down Westminster way, Any evening any day You’ll find them all doing the Eton walk. Even many a Labour chap Coming out with Tory crap You’ll find them all doing the Eton walk Everything is free and easy, Do as they damn well please-y How did they make their way there, Go there, stay there? With their laws unjust and cruel See how they divide and rule, You’ll find them all doing the Eton walk, OI! Don’t Shilly-Shally On the Way (to the Tune of My Old Man said Follow the Van, a music hall song written in 1919 by Fred W. Leigh and Charles Collins, made popular by Marie Lloyd.) My old man said follow the van And don’t dilly-dally on the way An ambulance now is more than we can offer There’s not the money in the public coffer Cos we shallied and shillied, shillied and shallied, Lost the NHS right down the drain Cos you can’t trust the Tories And the market forces When you’re dying and in pain. Daisy Daisy (To the tune of Daisy Bell, often known as “A Bicycle Made for Two” written in 1892 by British songwriter Harry Dacre, made popular by Katie Lawrence) Daisy Daisy, we’re gonna sanction you Though you have done all that you ought to do. We don’t care one iota, We’ve got to fill our quota; We’ll pick on the weak the sick and the meek As the government wants us to. Scapegoat (to the tune of “All the Nice Girls Love a Sailor” written by A.J.Mill and B Scott 1909 and made famous by Hetty King) Every government loves a scapegoat Somewhere they can pin the blame Oh it’s so handy to have a scapegoat Someone you can put to shame! Jobless workers must be shirkers For the fault it lies you see According to the nobs not with any lack of jobs But with you and with me. Ladyboy (to the tune of “Hello Hello, Who’s Your Ladyfriend” published in 1913, tune by Harry Fragson, original lyrics by Hubert Worton David and Bert Lee. See track notes for political disclaimer!) Hello, hello! Who’s your ladyboy, Who’s the little tranny at your side? I’ve seen you with an ambiguous person or two, I must say I’m not surprised at you! Hello, hello, stop your hiding games Come out of the closet don’t be coy— Or what’s the use of living down in Brighton! Who who who’s your ladyboy? Quayside (to the tune of “I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside” a music hall song written in 1907 by John A. Glover-Kind and made famous by music hall singer Mark Sheridan) Oh I do like to be beside the quayside Oh I do like to be beside the quay! Oh I do like to browse among the bijou shops With their Angel Cards and their bright pink mops. Oh I do like to drink a skinny latte And eat a panini on the side And to gaze out at the sea Where the trawlers used to be Beside the quayside, beside the quay. Prozac (to the marching tune “Pack up Your Troubles in your Old Kit Bag” published in 1915, original lyrics by George Henry Powell and tune by his brother Felix Powell) Take out your Prozac from your new handbag And smile smile smile! Though it’s forbidden now to light that fag Smile girls that’s the style! The ecosystem’s tottering And the culture’s getting vile BUT! Take out your Prozac from your new handbag And smile smile smile!

Lyrics As I went gathering mushrooms All on an Autumn dawn I spies the old landowner In wellies green and worn; He says what are you doing, What is that in your hand? Put down them magic mushrooms gel And fuck off of my land. I says “Tis nature’s bounty, The true fruit of the field, The fairest of the fairy-fruit Fair Albion does yield.” He whistled up his faithful hounds He had at his command Saying “We don’t want no hippies here, Just fuck off of my land.” He gives to me a filfy look, He sneers both up and down, He says “You mop-head townies, You ought to stay in town. You’re worse than bloody ramblers, Now do you understand— Before I set the dogs on you Just fuck off of my land.” And so I went some good way hence, Some several fields or more Where I came upon an old sheep-meadow Where they grew by the score; So I gathered several hundred, More than I’d hoped or planned And all because some Tory git Said “Fuck off of my land”!

Lyrics As I walked out one May morning To view the leaves and the fields a-springing I saw two maidens standing by And one of them this song was singing Chorus: Oh dear-o ! oh dear-o ! My husband’s got no courage in him. Oh dear-o ! Me husband’s admired wherever he goes And everyone looks well upon him With his handsome features and his well-shaped leg But still there is no courage in him Chorus Me husband can dance and caper and sing And do anything that’s fitting for him But he cannot do the thing I want Because there is no courage in him Chorus All kinds of vittles I did provide And anything that’s fitting for him, With rhubarb pie and oysters too But nothing can put courage in him. Chorus Every night when I go to bed I lies and throws me leg right o’er him Me hand I claps between his thighs But still there is no courage in him. Chorus It’s seven long years I’ve made his bed And seven years I’ve laid beside him, This morning I rose with me maidenhead For nothing can put courage in him. Chorus If he does not shortly try A cuckold I am sure to make him, For let me do whate’er I will I really can’t put courage in him. Chorus I wish me husband he was dead And in his grave I’d quickly lay him, And find another one instead That’s got a little courage in him. Chorus So come all ye maids take heed of me Don’t marry a man before you try him, Lest you should sing this song with me Me husband’s got no courage in him.

Lyrics Come gather round maidens, take heed of my song If you’re pissed off with foreplay That’s four minutes long (if you’re lucky!) Come gather round ladies and listen to this While I sing the praises of one off the wrist. No need to wear make-up or put on your face Dress up in stilettos or leather or lace, No need for a hairbrush, leastways for your hair— Though the handle is handy if used with due care. Oh the things that you do When you’re feeling obscene, Like sitting on top of the washing machine While you eat chocolate mousse or indulge in a cake And you’ll only get messy if you choose a flake. I’ve cavorted with carrots And played with courgettes, Though some say a marrow’s a much better bet (ow!) And bananas are useful but say what they may, I’ll go for coming the digital way. Forget about herpes and AIDS and the clap That old middle finger’s a trusty old chap, Fore-finger or four fingers, more if you’re keen They are always to hand And you know where they’ve been; But when shoulder is aching and wrist giving out Vee haff ze technology never a doubt, A nifty vibrator will hit the right note Oh it’s just the ticket for the man-in-the-boat. No need for a pill or a rubber device— Not sleeping on a damp patch is really quite nice. Go for it whenever you fancy some fun And you know in the oven there will be no bun; And even in rag week there’s really no need To miss out on your fun When you cramp and you bleed. It’ll ease up your pains, it’ll do you no harm And it’s always right there at the end of your arm. If you’ve time on your hands And you’ve nothing to do Don’t clear up the kitchen or clean up the loo Just retire to your bedroom and spend the whole day Sweeping the cobwebs in the passage away! Now the lads they all think this a frivolous song Cos they’ve all got a ting that is ten inches long But I’m telling you this, after ten pints of ale I never have known madam forefinger fail. So fret not you maidens that sleep by yourself It may be that you’re much better off on the shelf (spoken) which is where all the best crockery gets kept anyway, it’s only the mugs get used every day! And thank you good ladies for listening to this I’ve been singing the praises of loads off the wrist!

Lyrics When I was young I spent me time a-staring in the void I spent so long that I got bored and then I got annoyed I spent some time meandering the mazes of me brain; I blundered into a cul-de-sac so I buggered off out again Chorus: SING! Tooraloora looraloora looraloora lay I hope that I shall go on living till my dying day, Cos in the end the death rate is always one per head So spend some time a-living mate You’ll be a long time dead It’s boring sitting stranded between the womb and tomb And listening to Leonard Cohen in a bedsit room Or hanging round with drunken fools pretending to be deep And the highlight of the day is when you wank yourself to sleep Chorus I could become a Christian and believe the stuff they tell Live a mythical life to start with and end up in a mythical hell, But no-one’s got a patent cure for pointlessness and pain, And it ain’t a cross around your neck or a needle in your vein Chorus So in the end I sussed it out the only way through life Is just a celebration of this pointless joy and strife— A sense of humour and masochism also helps a lot Cos life’s a jolly good story oh but I never could fathom the plot Chorus So trim you up your falderal trick out your hair with gold And dust you off your dancing shoes, the ones you almost sold. Ask me not who pays the piper, who does the piper pay, The tune requires a dancer now not shadows in the grey Chorus, then SING! Tooraloora looraloora looraloora lay I hope that I shall go on living till my dying day Cos in the end the death rate …….. (spoken) is normally one per head, apart from Hare Krishnas, Christians,- well fundamentalists of all stripes, -junkies, alcoholics, and anyone else who’s satisfied with a half-life this side of Jordan * in which case the rate may rise to two….. (sung) So spend some time a-living mate You’ll be a long time dead! *The metaphorical river not the geographical place!

Lyrics In Wellington town at the sign of the plough There lived a molecatcher, shall I tell you how Chorus: Singing too-rel-i-day, Fol de li laddie di daddy di day He’d go a-molecatching from morning till night And a young fellow came for to play with his wife Chorus The molecatcher jealous of this very same thing He hid in the wash-house to see him come in Chorus He saw the young fellow come over the stile, Which caused the molecatcher so crafty to smile Chorus He knocked on the door and these words he did say “Oh where is your husband good woman I pray?” Chorus “He’s gone a-molecatching, you need never fear” But little did she think the molecatcher was near Chorus She went up the stairs and gave him the sign And the molecatcher followed them quickly behind Chorus And while the young fellow was up to his frolics The molecatcher caught him quite fast by his bollocks Chorus The trap it squeezed tighter which caused him to smile Saying here’s the best mole that I’ve caught in a while Chorus I’ll make you pay dearly for tilling me ground And the money it’ll cop you no less than ten pounds Chorus Well ten pounds says the young fellow, Well that I don’t mind Cos it only works out about tuppence a grind Chorus So come all you young fellows and mind what you’re at And don’t get them caught in the molecatcher’s trap Chorus

Lyrics His curiosity was roused And he had his chakras dowsed, And all put in good order and alignment They said “Your harmony is back Now to keep you right on track You need to do this little assignment”. Chorus: But it did no good, well he never thought it would, But please don’t blame the negative thinking! A far more likely cause is the cocaine and the whores And the weed and the porn and the drinking! He said it’s all just woo and none of it is true All yer New Age bollocks like that, Cos I need a magic pill that’ll stop me being ill While I carry on being a prat. He went to have some reiki But he thought it rather flaky And he found it quite surprising and offending Just how annoyed it made her When he thought he could persuade her To a massage with a happy ending! Chorus He went for crystal healing, But he soon came out reeling And wondering just what he’d done. When she went to place the crystals He tried to grab her Bristols…. Well isn’t that all part of the fun? Chorus He tried meditation mantras And several forms of tantras And decided that they all were crap; Cos he’s just another dick With the wrong end of the stick And a nasty dose of the clap Final Chorus So it did no good, well he never thought it would, But please don’t blame the negative thinking! A far more likely cause is the cocaine and the whores And the weed and the porn and the drinking! He said it’s all just woo and none of it is true All yer New Age bollocks like that, Cos I need a magic pill that’ll stop me being ill While I carry on being an utter twat!

Lyrics Oh Eve was mother of us all, it would have been Lilith If she’d agreed to Adam’s seed and lying underneath. Oh Eve was weak for Adam, Lilith was free and strong But either way we’re always in the wrong mmm mmm! The Priests: Here they come intoning that merry little song A mother’s place is always in the wrong mmm mmm! We drag the soul from realms sublime into this mortal coil, We are the webs of Maya in which poor mortals toil. This is our sacred purpose, the place where we belong— But a barren fruitless tree is further in the wrong mmm mmm! The Gurus: Here they come intoning that merry little song, A mother’s place is always in the wrong mmm mmm! Then for the psychotherapists the bogeymum was queen: If it weren’t for wot she done to you Fink wot you could of bin. You woz a spotless copybook, ‘twas ‘er that blotted you— So you are not responsible for anything you do mmm mmm! The Shrinks: Here they come intoning that merry little song, A mother’s place is always in the wrong mmm mmm! Now my mama she smothers me! Mine is never there! My mum is just so boring! Mine’s got purple hair! My mum is just so distant! Mine tries to be my mate! I think I’m turning into here and maybe it’s too late mmm mmm! The Daughters: Here they come intoning that merry little song, A mother’s place is always in the wro…….. uh oh!

Lyrics The Lobster Song Words traditional and found in many variants, tune traditional Oh you Brighton fisherman, back from the sea Have you got a lobster you can sell to me? Chorus: Singing right tiddly I do spit or bust Never let your braces dangle in the dust Oh yes dear Lady I have two, And the biggest of the buggers I will sell to you Chorus So I took it to my house but I couldn’t find a dish So I put it in the place where us used to make a wish Chorus In the middle of the night, my ma she says to me I’m gonna have to get up and go and make a wish Chorus She gives a little squeal, she gives a little grunt, She’s running round the room with the lobster on her finger Chorus Well we hit it with a mop, we hit it with a broom, We hit the stupid lobster half way round the room Chorus We hit it in the tail we hit it in the head We hit the poor old lobster till it was nearly dead Chorus Well the moral of this story is very plain to see It’s always take a shufti before you make a wish Chorus Well this is all there is, there isn’t any more There’s an apple up my arsehole and you can have the core Chorus

Lyrics Oh where are you going? said the dead knight behind the hedge; We’re going for our lunch said the two crows and still they stood. How’d you know I was here? said the dead knight behind the hedge Oh we just had a hunch said the two crows and still they stood. Where are my hounds? Said the dead knight behind the hedge. They’re somewhere over there, said the two crows and still they stood. And where is my wife? said the dead knight behind the hedge. She’s buggered off somewhere said the two crows and still they stood. Which bit will you eat first? said the dead knight behind the hedge. We’re going to eat your tongue said the two crows and still they stood N ng n ng n ng said the dead knight behind the hedge. Well that was jolly fun! said the two crows and flew away.