DEAD MEN DON'T YODEL

(Vikki-Beat, 1987)

Performers: Mike O'Brien, Wallace Hammond, Tony Richards, Duncan Snowden, Barry Newhook, Craig Squires, Justin Hall, Jon Heald, Mark Oakley, Joe Drumm, Lifer 909.
Recorded at Vikki-Beat Studios, January-May 1987.
"Drug-Takin Truck-Drivin Man" recorded in Jon Heald's basement, February 1983.
"Wilbur" recorded in Parkdale, Toronto, September 1984.
Produced by Wallace Hammond.
Cover art and Booklet by Mike O'Brien.

Songs:

Chicken Hawk Blues - Johnny Tit-head
Good Things From the Forest - St. Adonis Aquinas Assissi
Save the President's Ass - The Presley Dental AIDS
The Moons of Uranus - The Bubblegum Ninja Chorus
My Favorite Injun - The Cuntree Cowfreaks
17th Century Punk - Loddy Dogspit
Piltdown Blues - Homo Daddy-O Rex
1000 Year Scam - Little Richard Nicksome
Drug Takin Truck Drivin Man - Truckers Lunch
Wilbur - Moe Sludge
Dr. Cod's Beer Drinking Rap - Grandmaster Cahrge and the American Express
Da Mudder Song - Dat U Baz
Talkin Post Space Age Blues - Joe Average
Lunch Pail Youth - Split Level Crack Attack
Nuke Them Philistines - Billy Joe Bob & the Georgia Crackers
The Rise and Fall of the Three Little Pigs - Cosa Nostra Damus
Tory From Muskoka - The Upper Canada Ramblers
Redneck Jed - Blind Jack Phlegm
What This Country Needs - Allahbummer
Open Season on My Heart - Billy and the Knockers

CHICKEN HAWK BLUES

(Words by Mike O'Brien & Tony Richards; music by Mike O'Brien & Wallace Hammond)

Came to the city on a big old train
came here lookin for fortune and fame
I was ridin high oh what a dingbat
I was ridin high oh what a dingbat

They took my baby and they took my brain
left me nothin but a ball and chain
they said "sonny, boy you done been shafted
they said "sonny, boy you done been shafted

Gave me nothin, then they took it away
robbed me blind and said ''Have a nice day"
oh whoop de doo I done been bamboozled
oh whoop de doo I done been bamboozled

Skeets and chicken hawks, small time hoods
weasels and polecats give you the goods
say your prayers you mangy varmints
say your prayers you mangy varmints

You ain't no chicken hawk in my book
you ain't nothin but a loud mouth shnook
you're a sleeveen and a threat to poultry
you're a sleeveen and a threat to poultry

Take your chicken by the wing
Swing her round and round your thing
Swing her round till she gets dizzy
Round until her feathers get frizzy

Your chicken knows how to dance
Turn her round and watch her prance
You had enough of mother hen
Gonna boogie tonight down in the pen

Sittin in a tavern in my Batman shoe
sittin down pickin those chicken hawk blues
it's a long way back to Bonavista
it's a long way back to Bonavista
when you're a chicken

GOOD THINGS FROM THE FOREST

(Words & musc by Mike O'Brien)

Good things come from the forest
good things come every day
good things come from the forests of America
zippily doo da day

See the little baby bunny rabbit
see the moose and the bear
see the ducks, the geese and the gophers
frolicking without a care

See the oaks rise tall and stately
look at the trout streams flow
see the beauty of old Mother Nature
see all the good things grow

See the new hydro dams almighty
look at the gravel pits
see the work crews building superhighways
and all kinds of lovely shit

See the PCBs and dioxins
look at the acid rain
see the chemical clouds of destruction
see how the forests change

Kiss goodbye to the forests
they'll be gone any day
Kiss goodbye to the forests of America
zippily doo da day

SAVE THE PRESIDENT'S ASS

(Words by Wallace Hammond, Mike O'Brien & Craig Squires; Music by Wallace Hammond & Tony Richards)

Cancer can be beaten
Big Macs can be eaten
Presidential cheatin
Can be covered up okay
But ya can't disguise
But ya can't disguise
But ya can't disguise
That fear in your eyes
Mid term election day

We got to save save save the President's ass
From the Presidential aids
From the Presidential aids
From the Presidential aids

Fences can be mended
Bowel pain be ended
Voters condescended
To, your finger on the press
Scandal cleaned up neatly
Scandal cleaned up neatly
A few heads rolled discreetly
Extricate you from the mess

CHORUS

Hope shall spring eternal
From policies infernal
Obey the Wall Street Journal
And rise up from the pit
Goodbye to John and Ollie
Goodbye to John and Ollie
Their underhanded folly
Won't get our favorite cowboy into shit

CHORUS

THE MOONS OF URANUS

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

The moons of Uranus are shining tonight
they sparkle like jewels and dance in the light

We come to your world from the sky up above
bringing you fruit of the knowledge of love
superior beings with so much to give
showing you earthlings the right way to live

CHORUS

From what we can see, you've been bad boys and girls
killing each other, polluting your world
but we'll cure all that with the gifts that we bring
from the moons of Uranus, where love is the king

CHORUS

So many improvements that we have in mind
we're going to adjust your genetic design
soon you will all look and think just the same
and be really groovy gumbies, who all play the game

CHORUS

Of course, there's a few of you just won't fit in
we've got purifying showers to take care of them
then you'll be happy, in freedon and right
as the moons of Uranus look down in delight

CHORUS

No more recessions, no more starving kids
aren't you glad that we came when we did
we've cleaned up your planet and cured all your ills
so please don't complain when we send you the bill

CHORUS

We're going to take some of you, the best we can find
and take you away to our home in the skies
a final reward for earth's chosen few
and up in Uranus, we'll give it to you

CHORUS

MY FAVORITE INJUN

(Words - both of 'em! - by Duncan Snowden; music by Barry Newhook)

Jay Silverheels

17th CENTURY PUNK

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond & Tony Richards)

Hard times comin for the modern world
disease and pestilence reign
this feudal society's crumblin fast
the Huns are marchin again
the Brixton boys won the English civil war
and they still talk about it today
the black death reigned on Europe's parade
just blew everybody away
but I got me a lute and a Fender Twin amp
a mohawk and a bottle of plunk
I'm ready to rock
and I'm ready to roll
I'm a 17th century punk

Harry's in London
Gregory's in Rome
Luther's out nailin up signs
Oral Roberts is on channel 13
feedin us the same old lines
the reformation has come and gone
ut it didn't reform dick all
there's still those old men say they're speakin the truth
and they still got us all by the balls
it's hard to believe in a merciful god
while being tortured by some born again monk
the inquisition ain't no place to be
for a 17th century punk

They've found a new land in the western sea
they're callin it America
they got thanksgiving turkeys and pinball machines
it's an upward mobile spot for sure
once they get rid of the Indians
and create an atomic device
they'll be all set to make the free enterprise scene
at a special introductory price
so I'm gonna take my buttons and my safety pins
and pack em all away in a trunk
then it's off to America the brave new world
for the 17th century punk

PILTDOWN BLUES

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Tony Richards & Wallace Hammond)

Way back in time
ten million years
when men was men
and beers was beers
I'm sittin here
just eatin bugs
in a cold wet cave
on a goatskin rug
don't wear no hat
ain't got no shoes
just Piltdown blues

The stone age scene
it's all uphill
you wants to eat
you gots to kill
you born with nothin
you dies with less
don't ask me why
it's all a mess
it's dog eat dog
it's me eat you
just Piltdown blues

The dinosaurs
they rules the land
their pea-sized brains
concocts the plan
the laws laid down
the laws is tough
you fuck around
they eat you up
you gots to live
the way they choose
just Piltdown blues

They ain't no banks
to save your bread
no fancy pills
to fix your head
no Pontiac
on a payment plan
no Special K
with added bran
no income tax
no union dues
just Piltdown blues

The world turns round
to somethin new
you don't evolve
too bad for you
ten million years
all rearranged
you look around
ain't nothin changed
don't gimme answers
just gimme booze
just Piltdown blues.

1000 YEAR SCAM ($12 SNEAKERS)

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

Richard Milhouse Nixon sat on a wall
Richard Milhouse Nixon had a great fall
All of the fixers and CIA men
Couldn't put Dickie back up there again

Nixon and Erlichman and Haldeman were sittin
In the ivory tower and the world was shittin
They connived and weaseled with Bebe Rebozo
And the Grand Old Party they controlled
Nixon and Erlichman and Haldeman sat
In the place they did cause they were white and fat
And they had no qualms about wagin war
And they didn't fear the law cause they'd never been poor
But the hero of this song did none of these things
He was stuck on the night shift, patrollin the wings
Guardin the Watergate full of Watergate rats
A black man on the night shift, and that was that

Frank Wills was out on the rounds one night
He saw a few things that weren't quite right
He done his job well and the ivory tower fell
And them that were rulin were on the run
Just doin his job was the way that he said it
He didn't claim a lot or take a big pile of credit
Didn't write no books or win no Pulitzer prizes
But the way it turned out causes no one surprises
Nixon and the plumbers get their royalty checks
And small time America casts out a hex
Hard times come and Frank can't get a job
They blame the man who done right for the fall of a slob

The predidents and judges, all Nixon appointed
Backed up the ones who had them annointed
They whitewashed it all and cast their acquitals
Upheld in their own eyes their own code of justice
The courts of America still sing different songs
For white rich and black poor when Frank comes along
With his story of paradox, he's humble and meeker
He's sent up for a year for liftin 12 dollar sneakers
In a country of criminals you do the most time
When you cop and plead guilty to the least of crimes
Pull the biggest of scams and you get your reward
With number one sellers and writer's awards

But that's not the end of Frank Wills' tale
Frank spent the rest of his life in jail
And when he died he went up to heaven
And stood at the gate with the Chicago Seven
Peter stands there askin your money or your lives
Their pockets are empty so they give him no jive
Been a bit of a sinner and a lot of a saint
Says Frank, so Peter opens the gate
And gives them the fare for the bus ride to heaven
In front Dean's the driver, and sittin around
Are Nixon, his plumbers and the judges and hacks
Who send Frank to the back with the poor whites and blacks

DRUG TAKIN TRUCK DRIVIN MAN

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien & Jon Heald)

I'm a drug takin truck drivin man
I take all the pills that I can
got whites in my pocket, beer behind the seat
half a gram of cocaine and a rig that can't be beat
I'm a drug takin truck drivin man

I'm a drug takin truck drivin man
I always drive as fast as I can
don't worry about the police, they won't take me alive
when I put this 18 wheeler way up in overdrive
I'm a drug takin truck drivin man

I'm a drug takin truck drivin man
I'm gonna drive as far as I can
I'll take a few more bennies and put her to the floor
Dave Dudley's on the tape deck, just hear that diesel roar
I'm a drug takin truck drivin man

I'm a drug takin truck drivin man
maybe I'll wind up in the can
but it don't really matter, as long as I am high
and when I hit the highway this old semi's gonna fly
I'm a drug takin truck drivin man.

WILBUR

(Words by Wallace Hammond & Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

Wilbur worked at the gas station
But wilbur was not content
Somehow all that gas money
Just could not pay the rent
Now Wilbur liked high rollin
On truckin he was bent
A Shreddies truck rolled in one day
To the driver Wilbur went

The driver said to Wilbur
If you really want my job
You gotta start off in the Shreddies plant
Where they peel the corn off the cob
So Wilbur gave up gassin
And he went down to the plant
He signed up for the graveyard shift
And he moved in with his aunt

Well things went fine at first you know
Till they put him out on the line
There were men up there on PCP
They were strung out all the time
It was easy to lose an eyeball
Or a tooth or a leg or an ear
Or many other parts of the body
That Wilbur did hold so dear

But worst of all was cancer
Which everybody got
What was left of you would start shakin
And the frayed edges would rot
Wilbur watched his buddies
They were droppin one by one
But Wilbur still dreamed of truckin
And eatin on the run

But fate caught up with Wilbur one day
One day on the assembly line
When one of his fingers got all balled up
In a ball of packin twine
Pretty soon he lost a toe
And after that a foot
Lost both his earlobes and his nose
And his hair was all burnt to soot

Wilbur was out on the loadin dock
When a Mack truck took his leg
The insurance man found PCP
And the dividend wasn't paid
The work bosses looked at Wilbur
Knew he didn't have much time
So they moved poor Wilbur down
To the toughest part of the line

Now down in this part of the factory
You were lucky to last a day
You could end up in the Shreddies
And lose all of your back pay
Must be that he was unlucky
Poor Wilbur didn't have a chance
A Shreddies baler caught him
By the empty leg of his pants

So if you need a moral
A moral for this song
You'd best not work in the Shreddies plant
Where a man don't last too long
If you want to be a trucker
Don't forget to pack a lunch
Look for Wilbur in your Shreddies
Snap, crackle and crunch

DR. COD'S BEER DRINKING RAP FOR PRE-TEENS

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

Hi there kiddies, are you feelin good?
It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood
The birds are singin, the sky is blue
And Mr. Sun is shining just for you
But if Sesame Street just ain't your bag
And you feel your life gets to be a drag
If you wanna get outa the rat race rut
Or maybe just develop a big beer gut
You gotta go on the beer, it's a lotta fun
And Dr. Cod'll show you how it's done

You gotta get down, gotta get it right
Get out to lunch on the beer tonight
Come on down, gonna be a blast
But the first thing you need is a little cash
You might be broke, but here's a plan
Go down to the corner, stick out your hand
Act real pathetic and down on your luck
And say Hey there buddy can ya spare a buck?
So you bum some money, bum some more
And you get on down to the corner store

You gotta get down, gotta get it right
You pick out the kind of beer you like
Get a big case or maybe three
Some munchies for later, if you feel the need
You can rip it off, but don't get caught
Or just lay your cash on the countertop
So you buy all that and a pack of fags
And you bring it all home in a plastic bag
So you get on home, kick off your shoes
Cause now it's time to go on the booze

You gotta get down, gotta get in gear
Gotta get that stopper off the beer
Might be twist-off, maybe not
But don't you sweat, I'll tell you what
You can open a beer with any machine
From a butane lighter to a can of beans
So you take that beer and sit right down
Cause now it's time to go right to town
Lift up that beer that's in your hand
Suck it outa the bottle as fast as you can

You gotta get down, gotta get it on
Suck that bottle till the beer's all gone
then open another and tip er back
You're in the groove now, so don't be slack
Then number three and number four
You're pourin em down and you still want more
Six, seven, eight, you're gettin wrecked
They're startin to have the desired effect
Remember that beer is good for your health
Now it's time for a big old belch

You gotta get down, gotta get it on
A few more beers and you're goin strong
Ten more gone, feels good, you bet
It's time to light up a cigarette
Now you may no how to light a fag
But it's no easy task when you're half in the bag
You might light the wrong end, might not even care
You might set fire to your beautiful hair
But hold er steady, perform the task
Take an inhale, sit back and relax

You gotta get down, gotta get in line
Three parts drunk and it's party time
Crack another beer, hey ain't this fun?
So now you wanna shake your buns
With sixteen beer gone down below
You put some rock n roll music on the stereo
Crank er up loud, you get in the groove
And you feel your body start to move
So you dance like a monkey round your living room
And you play a little air guitar on a broom

You gotta get down, gotta get it right
The beer's flowin good and you're feelin alright
Feelin better than you felt for weeks
But now it's time to go for a leak
You figured that beer was heaven sent
But you can't remember where the bathroom went
How do you get there, I'll tell ya brother
You just put one foot in front of the other
You trip a few times but nobody cares
And you break a few things as you stagger upstairs

You gotta get down, gotta get it right
Give it a shake, zip your pants up tight
Another eight beers are quickly gone
Now you feel the munchies comin on
Hungry, man, there ain't no doubt
Get into that kitchen and pig right out
Get right down and stuff your face
And you spill that food all over the place
Abd when it's all gone, well have no fear
Just wash it all down with another beer

You gotta get down, gotta knock on wood
Them beers is goin down really good
Bet you think you're really somethin
A two-four gone and you're still chuggin
But the last two or three went down too quick
Watch out, kid, you're gonna be sick
You see them walls go round and round
And that beer in your belly just won't stay down
So you heave, and you heave again
Sit back in the chair, wipe off your chin

You gotta get down, gotta get on back
Get back in the groove, and that's a fact
You gotta make up for the beer you lost
Gotta show them brewskies who's the boss
Tip em on back like they're goin outa style
You'll be paralytic in a little while
Drink, drink drink, no time to talk
Then you keel on over round five o'clock
You pass out cold, goodnight, amen
But tomorrow night you gotta do it again

Get down
And drink some beer
Get down
And drink some beer

DA MOTHER SONG

(Words by Wallace Hammond; music arranged by Mike O'Brien)

I went to the Hillview to git me a beer
When up comes some mother who calls me a queer
I says to him mother let's go for a bout
He came and I went and I knocked him right out

They called for police and the constables came
I knocked down the back door and ran down the lane
The mother was waitin and cornered me there
The cops pried him off as he pulled on my hair

Da mother and me was took off to the jail
Twas no one who wanted to put up our bail
Da mother went at me again and again
So the judge was unfriendly we went to the pen

After six months in prison I hope I gits out
I'll go to the Hillview to see me old trout
I'll conk dat mean mother and head for the door
I'll hit him so hard that he won't get me no more

Oh mother oh mother I'll git ya some day
I'll plow ya so good dat they'll put me away
I'll do ya so dirty you won't go to jail
You'll go to the divil, dere won't be no bail

TALKIN' POST SPACE AGE BLUES

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

I got me a letter in thie mail today
from TV's Ed McMahon
addressed to me, personally
it looked so fine and grand
said you may have already won 10 million bucks
you lucky son of a whore
and I got so ecstatic, boy
I just about shit in my drawers
Now Ed McMahon wouldn't lie to me - would he?

I just got a peice of good advice
from an ad on my TV
said if I used this brand new aftershave
there'd be chicks all over me
I turned out to be allergic
my skin just melted away
now the nurses give me sponge baths
about fourteen times a day
Is that what they meant by chicks all over?

I bought me a house in the suburbs
so charming and so neat
it's right next door to a nuclear plant
so I got it mighty cheap
I've lived here seven years now
and I've seen some funny things
my tulips are growing six feet high
and my kids are growing wings
I guess they're gonna be upward mobile - look at em glow

I went for a high paid, high tech job
runnin some new machine
I didn't object to the urine test
cause I figured I'd come clean
but I was in for a nasty shock
when the boys checked out my piss
they said "you had a toke back in 75
you must be a communist"
I guess it's back to pluckin chickens for me

I ODed on fast food burgers one day
got addicted and gobbled down more
twixt Whoppers, Macs, McDDTs
my estrogen level soared
I turned into a Boy George clone
cutest thing you ever saw
with a ton of flab from ground beef slabs
and a 44 D-cup bra
Howdy, sailor, how'd y'all like a filet o feesh?

I got caught up in the health craze
I wanted to lose some weight
so I decided to take up hang gliding
it sounded really great
I encountered a powerful tailwind
over Soviet airspace I flew
the KGB picked me up as a spy
they said "it's the Gulag for you"
Guess I'll really slim down on that bread and water

Shit.

LUNCHPAIL YOUTH

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

Lunchpail youth
Lunchpail youth
It's the truth
Musta touched somethin
that wasn't real
Kid on a streetcar
Kiss your reflection
in the window
I'm okay, you're okay
reflection
Put that hit
between your lips
And kiss you brain
goodbye
Lunchpail youth
Lunchpail youth
Musta touched somethin
that wasn't real

NUKE THEM PHILISTINES

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

The Philistines are comin
they're comin right at you
and when they come, there ain't no tellin
what they're gonna do
the time has come for action
no time for being nice
the time has come to get
a thermonuclear device

And Nuke Nuke Nuke them Philistines
watch em zapped to glowing ions right before your eyes
sneak around the bushes and nuke em from behind
have yourself another drink and nuke them Philistines

Nuke em while they're ridin
in them dinky foreign cars
nuke em while they're sittin
in them trendy sushi bars
nuke em while they're watchin
Wheel Of Fortune on TV
nuke em cnce for Jesus Christ
and nuke em twice for me

CHORUS

Nuke em, nuke em
nuke em high, nuke em low
nuke em and then watch em glow
nuke em now, nuke em good
nuke em right outa your neighborhood
nuke em in the elevators
nuke em on the bus
nuke em till they're just a pile of radioactive dust
yeah, nuke em

Philistines is everywhere
they hide beneath your bed
nuke em in the upper colon
nuke em in the head
nuke em when they're sleepin
when they go to take a leak
nuke em just for devilment
they're all a bunch of geeks

CHORUS

THE RISE AND FALL OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond & Mike O'Brien)

This here's the story of three little pigs
who thought they could rule the world
suck up the wealth from the countryside
and enslave the little boys and girls
see how they ransacked nations
how they looted and they burned
then look at the world around you
there's a lesson to be learned

The first little pig wore a purple robe
on parchment he wrote down the law
he came, he saw, he conquered
and built his house on a bundle of straw
he had slaves to build his empire
slaves to guard his home
he orgied and he feasted
and he called his pigsty "Rome"

But that little pig was a short-sighted pig
didn't read the writing on the wall
he partied while he plundered
and ignored his own downfall
while the slaves were getting restless
that piggy was out on the town
he danced while his world eroded
and fiddled as it crashed to the ground

The second little pig built his house of wood
on an island in the sea
on wooden ships that piggy sailed
to bring the world to its knees
he took up the White Man's Burden
and put the boots to Gunga Din
then he sailed on home with the goodies he stole
and he sang God Save The Queen

But that little pig was an arrogant pig
thought held always rule the waves
he sipped his tea, grew thin and weak
while the slaves grew strong and brave
the sun finally set on the second little pig
plunged him into darkest night
his empire sagged and rotted
and it faded out of sight

The third little pig took some concrete and steel
and he built himself a big white house
with anti-tank emplacements and cruise missile sites
no one could get at the louse
he said "The Big Bad Wolf's out there somewhere
but he ain't gonna get me"
he built a closet full of space-age weapons
to enforce his righteous greed

This little pig is a smart little pig
but his luck'll run out some day
there's four billion angry people out there
someone's gonna make him pay
they'll get sick of that smug little bastard
and they'll bust into his sty
they'll bash his head and slit his throat
and hang him out to dry.

TORY FROM MUSKOKA

(New words by Mike O'Brien)

We don't smoke marijuana in Muskoka
we don't vote for the goddamned NDP
we don't drink that heathen beer on Sunday
we're proud of our acid rain and PCBs

and I'm proud to be a Tory from Muskoka
a place where right wing squares can have a ball
we still fly the old flag down at the legion
and bingo's still the biggest thrill of all.

We don't give two shits about unemployment
toxic dumps or Yankee cruise missles too
we don't give no sass to Mr. Reagan
like them commies down in Nicaragua do

We wear pinstripe suits we bought at Eatons
jeans and Mohawk haircuts won't be seen
Sinatra's still the hottest thing on the airwaves
and the kids here still respect the fuckin queen

REDNECK JED

(Words & music by Mike O'Brien)

I'll tell you all a story
bout Redneck Jed
with a thirty ought six
out gunnin for some reds
shot at a hippy
what was sittin on a stump
Jed didn't know
it was a toxic waste dump
a chemical soup
came bubblin up
full of polychlorinated biphenols
radioactive strontium
urea formaldehyde
and nutrasweet

Next thing you know
he's in intensive care
them kinfolks said
better get him outa here
that boy looks contagious
I don't want him close to me
it's the worst thing I seen
since that mean old Nam VD
old Jed had that
back in 68
it rotted his brain
made his hair fall out
Jed always blamed it
on the commies

Next thing you know
old Jed began to glow
with an eerie green light
and then Jed began to grow
into a vile, smelly monster
bout seven foot three
he gobbled up some nurses
and he moved to Beverly
Hills, that is
lookin for some movie stars
lookin for Jane Fonda
lookin for Joan Collins
lookin for Bo Derek
gonna reproduce

Jed hit big LA
just like the grapes of wrath
a eatin everybody
that strayed into his path
at a Hollywood party
some pills he did pop
he got himself an agent
and went straight to the top
playin heavy metal
lead guitar
eatin live Mexicans
on stage
made em all forget about
Ozzie.

WHAT THIS COUNTRY NEEDS

(Duncan Snwden)

...God bless America, our owm sweet home

At the seven hundred million dollar club
Pat Robertson got his reward
Cause rustlin reds for Reagan in the tropical sun
Really makes a guy want to drink Coors
So they gave him a case for saving our race
Fron those antichrist commies next door
But what this country needs more than anything else
Is a good old fashioned talk with the Lord

Jerry Lee's long lost cousin, he was really hustling
And he made more than Henry Ford
But lying and cheating his old lady's heart
Gave him stardom as a religious whore
Now I sit in my chair and I no longer stare
At the TV cause I'm getting real bored
But what this country needs more than anything else
Is a good old fashioned talk with the Lord

Well the man on TV can do a miracle for me
But he just won't do it for free
He can pull chicken livers right out of your nose
He can even make a blind man see
But he hesitates when I show him my legs
That blew off in the Vietnam War
But what this country needs more than anything else
Is a good old fashioned talk with the Lord

Now I put my trust in the company
To make a few million for Christ
South American masses, slave black asses
Will rake in the bucks over-night
What the company pays, the church takes away
And America's pride is restored
But what this country needs more than anything else
Is a good old fashioned talk with the Lord

But what this country needs more than anything else
Is a good old fashioned talk with the Lord
Amen.

OPEN SEASON ON MY HEART

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

It's open season on my heart
I don't think I can stand the pain
Hope I don't fall in love again
It's open season on my heart

If I go to the store
For a half dozen beer
I go to the counter
And tremble with fear
They's a young lady smilin
And just standin there
I fall right in love
I'd be better off queer

Then I go to the bar
For a calm me down drink
The waitress comes over
I can't even think
I pat her on the bum
and I give her a wink
I lose my control
And I turn a bit pink

I go off to church
And I sit in a pew
I pray to the lord
But I'm thinkin of you
In her new Sunday dress
And I wonder just who
If I've fallen again
God let me love two

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