Too Many Cooks My TV woke me from my sleep A man in a rainbow shirt called Felipe Cooking up a frizzle for all he's worth Dishing up a storm from the corners of the earth He can slice that carrot like a man possessed Saying " Buy my book, you can be the best." Switch the channel there's a helicopter man, Playing a concerto for the frying pan Ingredients your grandma would never ever dream saying "Hey, look at me, I'm a personality!" Or an actress well past my sell by date But I'll hand you the world on a dinner plate And what can the government do? To keep the customers satisfied Your dreams can't ever come true, It's wishful thinking and it's cold outside Too many cooks, too many cooks Too many pages in the recipe books Delia's gone, Fanny and Johnny adieu And they just don't make 'em like they used to do.. When all's said and done it's a total disgrace Continents starve while we're stuffing our face One can only hope that God forgives Seeing how the other half lives When the rains don't come and the harvest fails Felipe's off to capture migrating quails "Put it in the oven,Eric!" And what can the government do�

The Teenagers are Coming (to tune of Wid Mountain Thyme) Oh, the teenagers are coming, And their trousers are descending, And that wild waist line, Is towards their ankles heading Cool Dude, yo, Cool Dude,yo! And we'll all look daft together LIke we've crapp-ed ourselves big time And it don't look none too clever With our jeans slung low. With the crotch around my knees On a downward spiral going What happens if I sneeze? And my underpants are showing Cool Dude, yo Cool Dude yo! And we'll all look daft together... With one arm around my lassie, And the other to me kecks a clinging How cruel would be my fate If my mobile phone starts ringing Cool Dude, yo, Cool Dude, yo! And we'll all look daft together.. With my sideways baseball cap, I will surely wind up m y mother. "You can't go out dressed like that" But I'll just say "I int bovvered" Cool Dude,yo, Cool Dude, yo And we'll all look daft together..

The Man who Grows the Corn In their tall Saxon Shoes they've straddled the times Nameless their passing like clouds in the skies, Silhouetted on the skyline in a hot sunset dust, Backs bent to the sickle through centuries past Now the combines work late to gather in the grain It's headlights by moonlight before tomorrow's rain. So let's not throw scorn on the man who grows the corn As he grasps the cold iron in the chill of the dawn The biggest investment if you reap what you sow, Is planting a seed and watching it grow While the seasons still turn, that cock will still crow They'll be out with the dew in the morning. In glass city anthills intent on the race Eyes down to the pavement, they're lost in their maze, What fruits do they yield, what have they sown, Just a cold paper balance sheet their harvest home They're just like the birds that follow the plough As it pencils straight furrows through the then and now. So let's not throw scorn on those who grow the corn First the ox, then the shire now the tractor it speeds, And strong arms of the welder provide all that you need, While between those tall buildings a glimpse of the sky As they fight for their space with an eye for an eye Stood out on the very spot where they loaded the cart For those unsung legions who fought Bonaparte So let's not throw scorn on the man who grows the corn Turn around turn around time and again To the beat of the sun , to the rhythm of the rain, Turn around, turn around the seasons amen God speed the plough still as you did then Now those wet lands in November can be a cold heartless place But like their fathers before them they know of no other ways Than this factory in the fields 50 acres to drill Around the church steeple , and down to the mill As you roll through the seasons with a keen weather eye, And the itch of the barley the price that you pay So let's not throw scorn on the man who grows the corn

Why are we crap at cricket ? Now Francis Drake , so history tells, saw off those Spanish ships, And Wellington stuffed Bonaparte and all his Gallic tricks, Old Adolf couldn't humble us, though he gave it his best shot, With that gallant English spirit ,we saw off the bleeding lot. We used to rule the waves, old chap, until quite recently. But there's one thing I must declare, that's just a mystery. Why are we crap at cricket Why do we lose all the time, When we invented the bloody game, It seems like such a crime We've heard all the lame excuses, the tested and the tried And after all New Zealand they are a world class side, We're so utterly pathetic, don't know if to laugh or cry, Such complete embarrassment to dent the national pride. There's 18 year old Sri Lankan bowlers who spread terror in their path What ave we got? - thirtysomething puddings who just make 'em laugh. As our top and middle order batsmen go down like skittles before lunch Its the national sport of fishing wildly outside the off stump. Old geezers in blazers say 'tut tut' and blame the one day game But we're crap at that as well and its such a bleeding shame� Chorus "Norway" Play up and play the game keep a stiff upper lip We still go down like ninepins and get slogged all round the pitch And when by fluke our opening pair knock up a few runs perhaps, We know it's all just a prelude to middle order collapse Enter one stubborn Yorkshireman who can take it on't chin Whops ! There he goes, lbw! and it all seems such a sin. Chorus "Scotland under elevens" We'll never get back the ashes, if we're completely candid Even if the ozzies bowl blindfold , underarm and left handed We're so completely useless with no bottle and no skill. You just know that we'll screw up and I suppose we always will Is it the lack of long hot summers or no youngsters coming through Eh 'ang about we've won the toss, there's something we can do Chorus "those Japanese girl guides"

Longing (poem by Val Marshall George) Over the mountains my love has gone riding When I will see him I do not know When he returns I will be waiting For over those mountains I cannot go Beyond the moorland and the great river Up where the eagle rules all the sky Marshland and quicksands to trap the unwary Sometimes I wish that my lover could fly Bring him back safely and bring him back soon My prayers go with him as I wish on the moon When his duty is done he will come back here, Back to the home where his heart lies And then once more my arms will enfold him Giving safe haven until he dies (play chord seq of verse 2 as inst break) I'll carry his children and protect his line Their veins will carry both his blood and mine Let the stars guide every footstep fairies and elves Bring him home safely back here to me Let angels watch o'er him wherever he goes From any danger let him be free Over the mountains my love has gone riding When I will see him I do not know When he returns I will be waiting For over those mountains I cannot go Bring him back safely and bring him back soon My prayers go with him as I wish on the moon Over the mountains my love has gone riding When I will see him I do not know When he returns I will be waiting For over those mountains I cannot go

Blame it on the Male Menopause Don't blame it on the weather why I'm crying in my beer Don't blame it on my old hound dog that said "woof, I'm outa here !" Don't blame it on the words of this old country song I sang Don't blame it on my woman that took away my everythang And don't blame it on that passenger train that took my woman that was carrying my everythang away And left me here drowning my here and now in my used to be I'll tell you the reason that I'm drinking whiskey, beer and wine my friend And I'll tell you the reason why I'm slowly going round the bend I'll tell you why I fergit everythang that comes into my head I even fergit to remember to fergit the next lione of this song, so I'll have to make up some garbage instead So I went to see my doctor and said "help me , doc oh why ?" Am I in this state I'm in and this was his reply, and he said� Blame it on the male menopause. He's small and he's hairy with sharp teeth and claws And I'm gonna get that littlesonofab*ch, just because he's the cause When yer git ter fifty doesn't life just kick you in the (shhhh !you know where") I'm gonna hunt him down and weed him out, because it's plain to me He's the reason that I'm not the mayern I used to be Diddle ay hee o yay hee oh yay hee I looked under the floorboards, behind the TV and the chaise longue Thought I heard him up in the roof or maybe I was wrong No there he goes agin, so maybe I was right That mangy critter that makes me nee to go to the baithroom in the middle of the night He gives me those hot flushes, yes a mayern can git them too you see And I still can't find that ornery dawg that done this thang to me So I'll just blame it on the male menopause I went to see this woman, and I took my doctor's note She said she was a counsellor, musta worked for the council I suppose She put on a CD by some guy called Enya, and bid me to confide She said "Tell me all about it dear, let me put you in touch with your feminine side " When she heard my story she burst into tears and charged me £35 plus VAT Said if you can't cope with the change of life then try a change of key� Blame it on the male menopause

Golden Bough Key of C minor (Capo 3) (1)(2)(1)(2)(1)(3)(E) play this twice (Am)Listen to the (C)trees a sighing (D)In the winter(Dm) wind and(Am) rain (Am)Once we were a (C)mighty nation (G)Now we're cutten (Em)down again (Bm)Pay the cost of(F#) man's ambition (A*)Progress, greed and thoughtless (E)schemes (Am)Where the hunters (C)chased the wildboar (D)Now but a (Dm)memory and a (Am)dream So(Am) let us take a solemn vow That (F)we will seek the golden bough In the (D)shelter of your (Dm)sacred bower As the (Am)green man waits u(E)pon his hour (Am)Listen to the song again As(F) Robin and his merry men We(D) feel the earth start (Dm)breathing when You (G)spread your(D) branches o'er the (E)ground Play intro once� (Am)Ships that sail the (C)mighty ocean (D)Fuel for the oily(Dm) black ma(Am)chines Axe is sharp, takes (C)but an instant To(G) end the work of a (Em)thousand years (Bm)Future gone in an (F#)eyelid's blinking (A*)Where the birds no longer (E)sing (Am)Man thinks not be(C)yond the moment (D)When he (Dm)crowns himself the (Am)King So let us take a solemn vow � Play intro once�, (Am)Plant the ash and (C) plant the hawthorn (D)With the oak and (Dm)chestnut (Am)tall Give new heart through(C)out the shires (G)Shelter creatures(Em) great and small (Bm)Where the ivy and the (F#)bramble (A*)Cover over forest (E)floor From (Am)springtime waking (C)bleary eyed Or (D)autumn (Dm)leaves that silent (Am)fall So let us take a solemn vow .. Finish with intro but end on E sus not E

Change Your Partners. (Aug 2005) Do you Leanne take Wayne-"Wicked-Innit" To text each other till you use up your minutes With this ringtone I thee wed Who said that romance was dead Bun in the oven, pig at the trough You said you effing loved me And now you've buggered off. Just sixteen when I dropped my third Offspring of some spotty nerd Knickers up and down, sprogs fast and thick Might as well get fitted with a zip, Dad's done a bunk as is their wont Now you see them now you don't Change your partners one, two three Exit Wayne, enter Lee Change your partners round you go Where's your father, I don't know Hiss DNA will be love's token May the cycle be unbroken. Give your kids those role model slobs, Stuff that pizza down their gobs. Sit your children on your lap, Fill their brains with American crap AS "Listen with Mother" bites the dust Just feed them tales of zombie lust. Chainsmoke, wear bling, chew that gum, Down those breezers, flash your bum, Booze it,lose it, "watch it, you" Then eff and blind in a pile of spew Off to the costa, don't give a shit, Laid by Mario, jammy git. Change your partners , two three four Exit Lee, enter Jordan.. Let those burgers call the tune Expand till you're like a balloon, Flab on your belly button, flab on your thighs, Already a pudding before you're twenty five, Rings through his nose, tattoes on his knackers Lets's strew the world with MacDonald's wrappers. Grab those benefits, know your rights, Let your dog crap where it likes. Those celebritiess are like Greek Gods In the glossy magazines or on the box, With a Nokia your brains to fry, Then paint the town like Celtic tribes. Change your partners three four five. Exit Jordan, Craig's arrived.. And so we take the centre stage We're Thatcher's children come of age, Never went much on the education, just Gimme, gimme, gimme that gratification, But I'd be the Einstein of the class If me brain were the size of me mouth and me arse. So dumb it on down, dumb it down to me, Reality chat show on TV He's a really nice boy, they won't give 'im a chance And we all like the smell of our own farts like� Che and Churchill and Chanel and Snanette and Shinead and and Shaniece and Chevrolet and Nectarine and Baguette and Moonchild and Yellow and Cyan and Magenta and Little Boob Job and� Change your partners four, five, six Exit Craig, Daryll 'll fix it, Change your partners, five, six, seven Exit Daryll, enter Stefan, Change your partners, six, seven, eight, Exit Stefan, enter Stefan's mate, Change your partners, seven, eight nine, Exit Stefan's mate, enter rotten swine, Change your partners, eight, nine, ten, Exit Rotten swine, Wayne's back again, His DNA will be love's token�

Last Closing Time A widescreen TV fills the space, There where my grandad drank his ale, With lifestyle statements all around, The house that once was the Rose and Crown. Where once we sat and dreamed a dream, In the alehouse by the village green, Along the roads across the shire, All gathered round that welcome fire. What's gone is gone for ever more, As another alehouse shuts its door, Where hearts of oak sing a requiem We shall not see your like again, How have we let things come this far, When they call last orders at the bar, And what can we call yours and mine, As the landlord calls last closing time, As the landlord calls last closing time. Across the years and down the lane, There came the Saxon and the Dane, To lay the dust on summer nights, We sat and put the world to rights. Twas there we talked of many things, The fate of radishes and Kings, Till slowly all our troubles passed Towards the bottom of a glass.. What's gone is gone for ever more, But now, alas we must trust our fate, To the men from the conglomerate, Or those who tell us what we want, Is another cafe restaurant. Tesco deals in cheap six packs, Brewer's rents and government tax, While accountants with their swivel eyes, Hover round the corpse like flies� What's gone is gone for ever more, I've heard it said, all things must pass So come let's raise a parting glass.. And what can we call yours and mine� When the landlord called last closing time, When the landlord calls last closing time When the landlord calls last closing time.

Pebbledash 1. He(C) painted windmills, fields and flowers, And spent many a pleasant hour Like many (Am)Dutch painters who had gone be(Dm)fore. Though his(F) forms were somewhat indistinct There was(C) nothing there to make you think That (G)Mondriaan could take the world by(C) storm. 2. (C)Now and then he sold one or two For friends to hang up in the loo For(Am) nowt but just a few odd shillings and(Dm) pence When(F) suddenly he realised, As the(C) scales came falling from his eyes, There are(G) people out there with much more money than(C) sense. And he painted(C) parallel lines in black, Some thick some(Dm) thin, And(G) rectangles (some of which he coloured(C) in,) In yellow, blue, red (but not green,) His(Dm) paintings can be seen Sit(G) back and watch the cash come rolling (C) in. 3. Now(C) Jackson Pollock could wield a brush And came out with some nifty stuff And(Am) saw what Mondriaan had done for(Dm) art, Said(F) to himself "I'll have a bash At(C) finding pillocks with loads of cash" (He(G) lived in the America so he had a head(C)start!) 4. He(C) said "Now I will fool them all" And put his canvas on the floor, And(Am) threw paint at it from a very great(Dm) height, And(F) all the people gazed on with wonder And(C) said "but is it art, Miranda?" And(G) paid a fortune for this load of(C) sh�ining examples of 20th century neo-plasticism. And he painted(C) splashes and drips and drops and blibs and(Dm) blobs To the a(G)mazement of all those arty(C) snobs, He said "I've opened up the gates If you can(Dm) piss then you can paint And(G) in the process earn yourself a few(C) bob." 5. So (C)everyone can have some fun, Paint with your willy or your bum And(Am) you'll create a modern work of(Dm) art (F)Everywhere Mondriaans are seen With a(C) load of Pollocks in between So(G) let's go out and get an Arts Council(C) grant. 6. Just(C) bullshit you will fool them all And get work on the gallery wall (Am)Maybe even become a million(Dm)naire Scape(F) up some dogmess covered in fllies And(C) you might win the Turner Prize The(G) world's your oyster if you only (C)dare. So paint those(D) splashes and drips and drops and splits and(Em) splats, And(A) even include a couple of matchstick(D) cats, Go on have a bash And(Em) paint that pebbledash

Dick the Shit Now is that winter of our discontent A full 500 summers past and gone Yet still unsettled dust floateth all around And controversy rageth obstinately on One calleth me wicked, vile and loathsome toad, Another washeth me whiter than the driven snow, Wherein lieth the truth, who knoweth what lies, And who can say whose word, Was first to name me "Dick the Shit" Or "Richard the Turd". Out of those northern wastes I came, Loyalty me bound with iron chains (Not like that Clarence, devious rogue A m an of straw, a tosspot lewd and vain,) Beset by Rivers and his rapacious pack The king a puppet, could I ever turn my back? As I sat in this viper's nest Was it so absurd, To be reborn as "Dick the Shit" Or "Richard the Turd". That lackey Shakespeare goodly sealed my fate, In his Tudor mistress's eyes intent to gain good grace, And said the devil me in his own image cast, Made it pissing into the wind to state my case, And foul Black Annis surely sealed my fate, Across that West Bridge at the city gate, May a thousand curses rain on that old crone A pox descend upon that mad old bird In eternity to brand me "Dick the Shit" Or "Richard the Turd". Young Edward was a wan and sickly youth, Unfit for rule and not long for this life, I saw the nation soaked in blood anew Go to it, Brackenbury, no sentiment , small sacrifice, By Buckingham well goaded , both those lives I snuffed, Ere even he betrayed me and his head rolled in the dust. My kingdom for some common sense, as my horse I onward spurred, Into history as "Dick the Shit" Or "Richard the Turd".

I'm OK, Jack Blues I was waiting on the station for the second class, Got the point of a brolly up the Khyber Pass, Some goon in a tea cosy 'at Had sighted the 8.15 Started off a bayonet charge Without even an "excuse me, old bean." So scrum down or get trampled under sixteen hundred pairs of shiny shoes All paying their dues To the I'm Ok, Jack Blues Now the city throws its voices to stockbrokers' dummies Who ride the conversation train and talk about Egyptian mummies "You could be an even bigger rat" that's what the posters say Just laugh a little louder at the bosses jokes and yo'll be well on your way And every time you say "I say, it's my right of way" You stick your head through the noose Of those I'm Ok, Jack Blues. Now in your Sunday paper there's a magazine With a middle page spread of the majesty of the Queen, She's the head of the nation, we're all down on our knees, No real cause for celebration anyway, And as the Englishmen in their castles pour scorn and abuse On society's refuse, it's those I'm Ok, Jack Blues. Well, down the local boozer trots laughing Fred, With a great big beer gut in his head, You can hear him a mile away, laying down the law, You'll never wipe that smile off his face that tells you That he knows it all Sandpaper on the eardrums as he gives out his views On who to accuse, it's the I'm OK, Jack Blues So the tragi-comic office clones all go home to roost, But the postures won't melt like the butter on the toast, If you lost all your law books, what would come to pass? Like Coco the Clown with his trousers down, You'd be such a farce, So fester in front of your TV screen as it spews Out the six o' clock news, It's those I'm Ok, Jack Blues... It's those I'm Ok. Jack Blues, those I'm OK, Jack Blues.

Come Back, Ebenezer 1.The first Nowell that the angels did say Was a Noel Edmonds Special upon Christmas Day All hail to the brain dead forget silent night Fill up every channel with wall to wall shite 2.Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, They've barcoded Jesus stuck a paper hat on his head Like cattle we're seething let's make the tills ring, With big mouths and big bums and obnoxious offspring Come back, Ebenezer, when all's said and done, Put it down to your dry sense of humour Wheel your trolley to the checkout, Stick on a false grin And become a festive consumer. 3.Oh come all ye faithful, oh come ye three kings Bear the gift of Bing Crosby to make us all cringe Let's all stuff our faces, and loudly get pissed Unto us is born Johnny Mathis to drive us all round the twist. 4.Lets deck all the halls with boughs of holly Fill up the bars with every rentagob wally It certainly would have advanced peace on earth If someone had strangled Cliff Richard at birth. Come back, Ebenezer, when all's said and done, 5.Hark the Herald Angels jingle and wassails Here's a health to the credit card, to Cliff's wallet all hail And just for a parting gift to all mankind That pissing record by Slade for the 3 millionth time Come back, Ebenezer, when all's said and done,

Other Side of the Hill Intro: D/G/D/A D/G/D/A fig In a (D)far land, in the (F#m)distance (Gbar)There's a mother and (D)small child(A), And she (D)cries as she (F#)stumbles (Bm)along the (F#)dusty (Bm)road, (Gbar)Discussions on the (F#m)TV, and(B) fingers point the (C#m)blame, (Abar)While the guns do the (G#m)talking, It's the(G) same old story(D) over a(A)gain. D/G/D/A fig On the(D) two sides of a(F#m) city, (Gbar)Hearts and minds seem(D)forever closed(A), As the(D)smoke drifts in(F#)billows a(Bm)cross the (F#)barri(Bm)cades, (G)Where the sins of the(F#m) fathers haunt the (B)daughters and the(C#m) sons, (A bar)And no one seems to (G#m)notice all the(G) love songs under the (D)gun(A)fire. But on the (C)other (A)side of the (C)hill, There'll be(folk G) new songs to(D) sing, More(Bm) winding roads to (F#m)follow, And(G bar) more deep rivers to(A) swim. Here's(D) to our children's' (C)children, And (G)all their hopes and (Asus)fears(A), As they (D)try to build Jer(folk G)usalem From(E7) all our poisoned (A7sus)years(A7). D/G/D/A Though that (D)hill seems so(F#m) steep and long, (G bar)And we carry a (D)heavy load(A), (D)One day we can (F#)reach the top of that(Bm) rough and (F#)rocky (Bm)road, (Gbar)Keep your love light(F#m) shining, and (B)don't let out the (C#m)flame, (A bar)Don't give up, you're the (G#m)only hope For a(G) world so full of (D)sorrow and(A) shame. But on the other side of the hill, (C)Storms u(G)pon the (Am)ocean wave, Were(C) like a (E)ship lost at (F)sea(G), (C bar)Tossed by those(G) winds of war, (Bb)Far from that(F) peaceful shore, By(Em) those who are out for (B7)gain, By(Em) those who sell death and pain(A/G). D/G/D/A In the (D)playground of a(F#m) city school, (G bar)Children sing to their (D)skipping rhymes(A), (D)Teddy bear, teddy bear (F#)say your prayers To the(Bm) rhythm(F#) of the (Bm) drum, (G bar)All playing the(F#m) same game through the (B)laughter and the (C#m)tears. (A bar)Giving hope for the (G#m)future, through(G) all those hard and(D) dangerous (A)years. D/G/D/A But on the other side of the hill, Finish with D/G/D/A D.G/D/Asus(5th pos)

Famous Belgians Django Reinhardt, Kim Kleisters, Cesar Franck, Peter Breugel, Adolphe Sax, Magritte, Rubens, Audrey Hepburn, The Emperor Carausius, Justine Henin, Jacques Brel, Hercule Poirot, Tin Tin, George Simenon Jean Marc Bosman, Leopold the first, second, third, the Singing Nun, that bloke wot rode the bike, and Plastic Bertrand.. Let's sing in praise of famous Belgians, Let's put them all into one song, And because the song's about famous Belgians, Like a bookie's pen, it won't be very long.