Roll Up
Tattooed we dance the tango, in a melancholy way,
Bearded ladies, muscle men, freaks entering the affray.
Crowds come in from the suburbs to observe the perverse,
Jimmy the pick-pocket he's on the loose,
Mind out and watch your purse.
Frankie the brain damaged boxer, he's only got left a year,
The local bums take him for a round and for his blood they cheer.
Prostitutes do good business, they'll gob you for a days rent,
And if it's a boy that you're after, they're over behind the tent.
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up.
Pimps count their money, they think they've got a good job.
It's better than being a gangster, it's better than being a slob.
Pin-heads, Siamese twins, midgets
They all shock the best they can.
The gypsy fortune teller, she knows we're all damned.
Our life's a side-show attraction, we do our best to please,
Our life is a side-show attraction, death, decay and disease,
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up
Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up, Roll Up
Tiger Lillie Line
Things are getting hard now, getting hard to find.
Your livers piccalilli, your kidneys are unkind.
Wake up every morning, you'd lie if you felt fine,
Stick you fingers down your throat now, nihilistically inclined.
That's the Tiger Lillie line.
You're hungry for the glory, on the radio you'd mime.
The alcohol consumes you, piccalilli is your mind.
They're feasting at the table, but only scraps and crumbs you find.
You're angry and you're bitter, your hat is full of dimes
Well that's the Tiger Lillie line
You wake up every morning when the clock forgets to chime
You go to sleep each evening, with the whiskey and the wine
That's the Tiger Lillie line
That's the Tiger Lillie line
That's the Tiger Lillie line
Tiger Lillie line
Banging in the Nails
I'm crucifying Jesus, banging in the nails,
And I am so happy, because old Jesus failed.
I'm crucifying Jesus, nail him to the cross,
The poor old bastard bleeds to death and I don't give a toss.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm crucifying Jesus, in my piss he bathes.
I think I am a pervert, I think I am depraved
I'm crucifying Jesus, beat him to a pulp,
I stick my organ in his mouth and on it he must gulp.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
You see that crown of thorns upon his head?
Well that was my idea.
I think I might be going to hell,
Oh dear!
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
I'm bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang,
banging in the nails.
Slough
1,2,3,2,2,3
Well it's grim up north
But it's grimmer than that in Slough
I'll sing you a song
If you drop a bomb on Slough
Driving about in your car.
making another box of Mars Bars
In Slough, Slough.
Well the shift-works a dog
And your life is a slog
In Slough
Night and day you work for your pay
In Slough
24 hours you are on call
They've got you, they've got you by the balls
In Slough, in Slough, in Slough, in Slough
Drop a bomb on Slough, Drop a bomb on Slough
Drop a bomb on Slough, Drop a bomb on Slough
Alone with the moon
Searching for sunlight, there in your room.
Trolling for one light, there in the gloom
You dream of a better day, alone with the moon.
All things are nothing, there in your tomb
All things are nothing, assured is your doom.
You dream of a better day, alone with the moon.
The laughing and joking, they all end too soon
Forgotten memories, forgotten tunes
You dream of a better day, alone with the moon.
That day, it's coming soon,
Alone with the moon, Alone with the moon
Alone with the moon, Alone with the moon
Alone with the moon, Alone with the moon
Alone with the moon, Alone with the moon
Terrible
On Mondays murder children, little girls and boys
I put my hands around their throats till they don't make a noise
Tuesdays torture animals, pluck off small birds wings
Watch them as they bleed to death, then they don't sing
Wednesdays I defecate on the priest's front door
If the priest he does complain, I just do it some more
Thursdays I Molatov the local orphans home
Love those little orphans, charred down to the bone
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd
On Fridays sodomize tender virgin nuns
Tie them up, lear at them, and then I have my fun
Saturdays I stand and sing my sad, sad, sick, sick songs
To anyone who listen, who in the head is wrong
Sundays, Sundays, the day I love the best
Rape, murder, pillage while other people rest
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
But when I do offend someone it makes me feel so proud
Russians
It's pissing down with rain
The dogs they all do howl
Just beneath the surface, the faces all do scowl
Selling off an empire, they sell it by the pound
The Russians in the market square
Give him 15 Deutschmarks for an old red hat
He will sell you the coat off of his back
And he's looking handsome and he's looking sad
The Russian in the market square
The Russian in the market
The Russian in the market
The Russian in the market square
He'll tell you stories about his past
He'll tell you stories if you ask
And he's looking handsome and he's looking sad
The Russians in the market square
Yes, the Russian in the market
Yes, the Russian in the market
Yes, the Russian in the market square
Yes, the Russian in the market
Yes, the Russian in the market
The Russian in the market square
Yes, the Russian in Frankfurt Square
Gypsy Lament
The Nationalists, the Socialists,
The Communists, the Capitalists
They all agree you don't exist
And they all watch as you slash your wrists
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
They treat you like you're a disease
They all do with you as they please
They all watch as you bleed
They bleed you of your dignity
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
Gypsy lament, Gypsy lament
Heaven to Hell
I thought I'd be happy in heaven
I thought it would be swell
I thought I'd be happy in heaven
In fact I'm as unhappy as hell
The harps, they all bore me
St. Peter's jokes are a farce
The angels look down their noses
because I'm from a different class
St. Mathews discovered religion
He converts people every day
Whenever he gets near me
I tell him to go away
St. Christopher, I've been rude to him
I told him what he could do with his staff
I told him where he could stick it
And he didn't laugh
Only old Mary is good'un
Yeah, she's a good sort
She's generous with everyone
She's a good sport
And God, he's a miserable bastard
He's always making up rules
I'm terribly disillusioned
I think he's a silly old fool
Jesus, he plays the guitar
He sings like Joni Mitchell
I thought I'd be happy in heaven
But in fact I'm unhappy as hell
Mortuary
My liver chokes, my kidney's bloat
There goes another year
Heads in pain, down the drain
Face the end with fear
Heart's been broke, downward slope
Mortuary is near
Can't delay the fateful day
The mortuary is near
Yeah, the mortuary, the mortuary, the mortuary is near
Yeah, the mortuary, the mortuary, the mortuary is near
When I die I'll ask you why
And if your answers clear
Then I'll know that you didn't lie
The mortuary is near
One more drink then I'll sink
Face the end with fear
One more smoke, then I'll croak
The mortuary is near
Yeah, the mortuary, the mortuary, the mortuary is near
Yeah, debauchery, debauchery, debauchery is near
Yeah, the mortuary, the mortuary, the mortuary is near
Yeah, debauchery, debauchery, debauchery is near
Nightingale
Slow death to the nightingale
His voice would always fail
In tenement towers
and on rails
And all of these praising words
They all seem so absurd, so absurd
Your poverty you declare
The paint blisters on your stairs
The dampness in your bones is always there
And all of these praising words
Well, they all seem so absurd, so absurd
Ever thought that you would be
This washed up and lonely
This washed up and lonely
This lonely
Crime
My mother was a prostitute
My father was a thief
My auntie ran a brothel
It gave cheap relief
Crime, crime
Crime doesn't pay
And my sister worked in peep shows
Carrots between cheeks
My brother pimped for call girls
Fostered their deceits
Crime, crime doesn't pay
Except when the debt collector needs to be paid
My nephew was a rent boy
Dress-sense made me weep
And my niece clipped in Soho
Her lies defied belief
Crime, crime, crime doesn't pay
Except when the debt collector needs to be paid
Crime, crime, crime doesn't pay
Old Gracefully
The shit-stains on your sheets
Show you've got three more weeks
You won't grow old gracefully
The skin pulled from your cheeks
You're voice is growing weak
You won't grow old gracefully
And I remember when
You didn't pretend
I remember in St. James Park
When we both did laugh
About growing old gracefully
Were you promiscuous
I only ask because
We won't grow old gracefully
And I remember on the Thames
You knew you'd reached the end
You won't grow old gracefully
Reap what you sow
He's got to have a hobby
He's got to have a vice
It's just that his hobby
Well, it isn't very nice.
He tells you don't tell no-one
Or else you're gonna die
Scars them for a lifetime
And every night they cry
Well both of his daughters
His wife she didn't know
Ruins all their lives
But has to though
And I saw him in the court room
The tears ran from his eyes
Were they a crocodiles
I wouldn't be surprised
Now his life is over
He's out of prison though
I told him I told him
You reap what you sow
Pretty soon
Pretty soon, it will be you judgement day
Pretty soon, you will be in decay
Pretty soon, on a marble slab you'll lie
Hope some-ones with you when you die
Pretty soon, you body will be in pain
Every muscle and sinew will burn like a flame
Pretty soon, in fear you will cry
Hope some-ones with you when you die
Pretty soon, maggots eat your flesh
Pretty soon, old and rotting where once you were fresh
Pretty soon, your flesh putrefies
Just hope some-ones with you when you die
Pretty soon
Arthur
Arthur I love you
Though you've got B.O.
And you trainers are dirty
and your brains rather slow
And Arthur I love you
Though you read The Sun
And you wear a leisure suit
When you're having fun
And your not a fascist
You're just a cog
And you keep a Pit-bull
'cause their a lovely dog
And Arthur I love you
You're no piece of slime
Just used and accused
By the ruling class swines
Lets face it Arthur
Arthur you're fucked
You never could say
That enough, that enough....
Was enough
Decline
Well, the tree it does whither
You're hands like peaches grow old
Your back bends like a willow
With nobody left now to hold
Your dreams, hopes, aspirations
Have all turned to dust
You've nobody left now to talk to
And you've no-one left now to trust
Should I mourn your decline
Should I be nice to you
Where do I draw the line
It is in to a home that awaits you
Should I mourn your final decline
No, I will drink to your decline
I will drink to your decline
Millionaire
Baby is just a millionaire
He's 'orrible and unkind
Baby is just a millionaire
and he will rob you blind
And he'll have you on Monday
He'll have you on Tuesday
He'll have you on Wednesday as well
Baby is just a millionaire
He's got gold taps on his bathroom suite
Baby is just a millionaire
He's 'orrible and he's neat
And he'll have you on Thursday
He'll have you on Friday
Saturday and Sunday as well
Baby is just a millionaire
Didn't Baby do well
Baby is just a millionaire
And Baby is going to Hell
Yeah, Baby is going to Hell
Baby is going to Hell
