[cite]Posted By: T.C.E[/cite]The man himself, Big Bazza Manilow
Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there
She would merengue and do the cha-cha
And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar
Across a crowded floor, they worked from 8 till 4
They were young and they had each other
Who could ask for more?
At the Copa (CO!), Copacabana (Copacabana)
The hottest spot north of Havana (here)
At the Copa (CO!), Copacabana
Music and passion were always the fashion
At the Copa....they fell in love
They used to do an amusing spoof of this at the Tramshed "Fundation" back in the late '70's / 80's.
"Her name was Lily, she owned a cafe
With plastic curlers in her hair and a bum like Yogi Bear..
....Her speciality was Chicken Fricassee
A slice of bread and butter and cup of tea
At the cosy, cosy cafe diner
In all of Plumstead there was nowhere finer
Eat all your lunch up and watch a good punch-up at the Cosy
She was the guv"
"I slash them cold, I kill them dead
I broke the gooks, I smashed their heads
I'll bomb them out from under their beds
But now I've got the running gun blues"
Lemonheads - Baby's Home. Terrific twist in the final verse:
My indecision is causing me pain
It's hard to conceal it
And it's harder to name
Before I leave for work
Here's some words that might hurt
But it's something that I have to say
Think about me, when he calls around three
The time that you know I'm not at home
All that I ask is our promises last
'Til the time I can stand on my own
When I horse breaks a leg
Then it's best to shoot it
'Cause it's quick and it eases the pain
But when a marriage is dying
Tell me who does the firing
And who is to say who's to blame
Think about me, when he calls around three
The time that you know I'm not at home
All that I ask is our promises last
'Til the time I can stand on my own
You may think i went to work
But i took the day off
And i watched him as his car pulled in the drive
And although my heart's hurtin'
My shotgun is workin'
And it packs one hell of a surprise
Think about me, when he calls around three
'Cause guess what your baby is home
I'll cut you in half with a double shot blast
And I'll pound on his head with a stone
'Til I think I can stand on my own
In these days of changing ways
so called liberated days
a story comes to mind of a friend of mine
Georgie boy was gay I guess
nothin' more or nothin' less
the kindest guy I ever knew
His mother's tears fell in vain
the afternoon George tried to explain
that he needed love like all the rest
Pa said there must be a mistake
how can my son not be straight
after all I've said and done for him
Leavin' home on a Greyhound bus
cast out by the ones he loves
A victim of these gay days it seems
Georgie went to New York town
where he quickly settled down
and soon became the toast of the great white way
Accepted by Manhattan's elite
in all the places that were chic
No party was complete without George
Along the boulevards he'd cruise
and all the old queens blew a fuse
Everybody loved Georgie boy
The last time I saw George alive
was in the summer of seventy-five
he said he was in love I said I'm pleased
George attended the opening night
of another Broadway hype
but split before the final curtain fell
Deciding to take a short cut home
arm in arm they meant no wrong
A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue
Out of a darkened side street came
a New Jersey gang with just one aim
to roll some innocent passer-by
There ensued a fearful fight
screams rang out in the night
Georgie's head hit a sidewalk cornerstone
A leather kid, a switchblade knife
He did not intend to take his life
He just pushed his luck a little too far that night
The sight of blood dispersed the gang
A crowd gathered, the police came
An ambulance screamed to a halt on Fifty-third and Third
Georgie's life ended there
but I ask who really cares
George once said to me and I quote
He said "Never wait or hesitate
Get in kid, before it's too late
You may never get another chance
'Cos youth a mask but it don't last
live it long and live it fast"
Georgie was a friend of mine
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie, Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay
"I used to have a wad of hundred dollar bills in the back pocket of my suit/I had a 45 underneath my coat and another one in my boot/I drove a big old cadillac, bought a new one anytime I pleased/And I put more law men in the ground than Alabama put cottonseed"
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'. And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him As they rode him in custody down to the station And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder. But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face. Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him And high office relations in the politics of Maryland, Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling, In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking. But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face. Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen. She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage And never sat once at the head of the table And didn't even talk to the people at the table Who just cleaned up all the food from the table And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level, Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane That sailed through the air and came down through the room, Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle. And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger. But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears, Take the rag away from your face. Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded And that even the nobles get properly handled Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom, Stared at the person who killed for no reason Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'. And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished, And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance, William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence. Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears, Bury the rag deep in your face For now's the time for your tears.
The night was clear and the moon was yellow,
And the leaves came tumbling down.
I was standing on the corner,
When I heard my bulldog bark.
He was barkin' at the two men,
Who were gamblin' in the dark.
(Da-da, da-da.)
It was Stagger Lee and Billy.
Two men who gambled late.
Stagger Lee threw seven,
Billy swore that he threw eight.
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated by backup singers, over the following verses.]
Stagger Lee told Billy,
"I can't let you go with that.
You have won all my money,
And my brand new stetson hat."
Stagger Lee went home,
And he got his forty-four.
Said, "I'm goin' to the barroom,
Just to pay that debt I owe."
(Da-da, da-da.)
[Instrumental break with vocal stylings.]
Stagger Lee went to the barroom,
And he stood across the barroom do'.
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/Ot9c ]
Sai', "Now nobody move."
And he pulled his forty-four.
(Da-da, da-da.)
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated by backup singers, over the following verses.]
"Stagger Lee," cried Billy,
"Oh, please don't take my life,
I've three little children,
And a very sickly wife."
Stagger Lee shot Billy.
Oh, he shot that poor boy so bad.
Till the bullet came through Billy,
And it broke the bartender's glass.
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated along with ad libbing from Price, to end.]
My favourite 'poignant' lyrics courtesy of Ian Dury
I have lived almost fifty years, and I've seen life as it is: pain, misery, hunger,
cruelty beyond belief, I have heard the singing from taverns and moans from the
bundles of filth in the streets. I've been a soldier, and seen my comrades fall in battle,
or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I've held them in my arms at the final
moment. These were men who saw life as it is, yet they died, despairing - no glory,
no gallant last words, only their eyes filled with confusion, wimpering, questioning.
Why? I do not think they asked why they were dying, but why they had ever lived
[cite]Posted By: RedArmySE7[/cite]Kim by Eminem, filth, pure filth!
What a song though!
Definitely, the guy is pure genius. I was reading this thread and whacked it on my iPod at work and it just reminded quite how talented he is, I've don't pretty much the first 3 albums today )
Comments
Hitcher, hitcher,hitch one ride.
Took your life with a switchblade knife.
He put the secret into your brain
Moments later you died in pain
See the trucks as they scream on by
Your pain reflected in the windshield wipers.
The cold of that moulded steel
If only you had grabbed that wheel.
Where the wild roses grow - Nick Cave (where he murders (gasp) Kylie!
And, er, anything by, er, the Killers?
Put the Millwall in the middle and then burn the f****** lot
They used to do an amusing spoof of this at the Tramshed "Fundation" back in the late '70's / 80's.
"Her name was Lily, she owned a cafe
With plastic curlers in her hair and a bum like Yogi Bear..
....Her speciality was Chicken Fricassee
A slice of bread and butter and cup of tea
At the cosy, cosy cafe diner
In all of Plumstead there was nowhere finer
Eat all your lunch up and watch a good punch-up at the Cosy
She was the guv"
Can't remember any more!
"I slash them cold, I kill them dead
I broke the gooks, I smashed their heads
I'll bomb them out from under their beds
But now I've got the running gun blues"
David Bowie
My indecision is causing me pain
It's hard to conceal it
And it's harder to name
Before I leave for work
Here's some words that might hurt
But it's something that I have to say
Think about me, when he calls around three
The time that you know I'm not at home
All that I ask is our promises last
'Til the time I can stand on my own
When I horse breaks a leg
Then it's best to shoot it
'Cause it's quick and it eases the pain
But when a marriage is dying
Tell me who does the firing
And who is to say who's to blame
Think about me, when he calls around three
The time that you know I'm not at home
All that I ask is our promises last
'Til the time I can stand on my own
You may think i went to work
But i took the day off
And i watched him as his car pulled in the drive
And although my heart's hurtin'
My shotgun is workin'
And it packs one hell of a surprise
Think about me, when he calls around three
'Cause guess what your baby is home
I'll cut you in half with a double shot blast
And I'll pound on his head with a stone
'Til I think I can stand on my own
Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone,
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.
OR
Eleanor Rigby,
died in the church and was buried along with her name,
nobody came.
In these days of changing ways
so called liberated days
a story comes to mind of a friend of mine
Georgie boy was gay I guess
nothin' more or nothin' less
the kindest guy I ever knew
His mother's tears fell in vain
the afternoon George tried to explain
that he needed love like all the rest
Pa said there must be a mistake
how can my son not be straight
after all I've said and done for him
Leavin' home on a Greyhound bus
cast out by the ones he loves
A victim of these gay days it seems
Georgie went to New York town
where he quickly settled down
and soon became the toast of the great white way
Accepted by Manhattan's elite
in all the places that were chic
No party was complete without George
Along the boulevards he'd cruise
and all the old queens blew a fuse
Everybody loved Georgie boy
The last time I saw George alive
was in the summer of seventy-five
he said he was in love I said I'm pleased
George attended the opening night
of another Broadway hype
but split before the final curtain fell
Deciding to take a short cut home
arm in arm they meant no wrong
A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue
Out of a darkened side street came
a New Jersey gang with just one aim
to roll some innocent passer-by
There ensued a fearful fight
screams rang out in the night
Georgie's head hit a sidewalk cornerstone
A leather kid, a switchblade knife
He did not intend to take his life
He just pushed his luck a little too far that night
The sight of blood dispersed the gang
A crowd gathered, the police came
An ambulance screamed to a halt on Fifty-third and Third
Georgie's life ended there
but I ask who really cares
George once said to me and I quote
He said "Never wait or hesitate
Get in kid, before it's too late
You may never get another chance
'Cos youth a mask but it don't last
live it long and live it fast"
Georgie was a friend of mine
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie, Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay
I met her on the mountain
There I took her life
Met her on the mountain
Stabbed her with my knife
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Hang down your head and cry
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley
Poor boy, you're bound to die....
i was gonna put that one, glad i'm not the only one who knows it?
kills the both of us,
to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
The Smiths, There is a light.
"I used to have a wad of hundred dollar bills in the back pocket of my suit/I had a 45 underneath my coat and another one in my boot/I drove a big old cadillac, bought a new one anytime I pleased/And I put more law men in the ground than Alabama put cottonseed"
William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling,
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn't even talk to the people at the table
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.
But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face.
Now ain't the time for your tears.
In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel
To show that all's equal and that the courts are on the level
And that the strings in the books ain't pulled and persuaded
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught 'em
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who killed for no reason
Who just happened to be feelin' that way without warnin'.
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,
And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.
Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face
For now's the time for your tears.
velvets
"he walked on down the hallway
and he canme to a room, and he looked inside,
father
yes son
I want to kill you
mother
i want to fcuk your
The night was clear and the moon was yellow,
And the leaves came tumbling down.
I was standing on the corner,
When I heard my bulldog bark.
He was barkin' at the two men,
Who were gamblin' in the dark.
(Da-da, da-da.)
It was Stagger Lee and Billy.
Two men who gambled late.
Stagger Lee threw seven,
Billy swore that he threw eight.
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated by backup singers, over the following verses.]
Stagger Lee told Billy,
"I can't let you go with that.
You have won all my money,
And my brand new stetson hat."
Stagger Lee went home,
And he got his forty-four.
Said, "I'm goin' to the barroom,
Just to pay that debt I owe."
(Da-da, da-da.)
[Instrumental break with vocal stylings.]
Stagger Lee went to the barroom,
And he stood across the barroom do'.
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/Ot9c ]
Sai', "Now nobody move."
And he pulled his forty-four.
(Da-da, da-da.)
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated by backup singers, over the following verses.]
"Stagger Lee," cried Billy,
"Oh, please don't take my life,
I've three little children,
And a very sickly wife."
Stagger Lee shot Billy.
Oh, he shot that poor boy so bad.
Till the bullet came through Billy,
And it broke the bartender's glass.
["Go Stagger Lee," is repeated along with ad libbing from Price, to end.]
(By the end of the song he just couldn't take it any more and lost it, smashing that squeaky, smarmy, annoying freak round his big, fat chops).
Now Orville's doing biiiiiirrrrrrrdddd!
I have lived almost fifty years, and I've seen life as it is: pain, misery, hunger,
cruelty beyond belief, I have heard the singing from taverns and moans from the
bundles of filth in the streets. I've been a soldier, and seen my comrades fall in battle,
or die more slowly under the lash in Africa. I've held them in my arms at the final
moment. These were men who saw life as it is, yet they died, despairing - no glory,
no gallant last words, only their eyes filled with confusion, wimpering, questioning.
Why? I do not think they asked why they were dying, but why they had ever lived
The paper called it suicide
A bullet from a forty-five
Nobody cared and nobody cried
Don't that make you feel sad?
Peter Brent combed his hair
And sent for the police
Policeman came, took Peter's name
God, may he rest in peace
No one saw the note beside the body
No one knew the problems
But my God
Suicide
The body remains unidentified
Forgotten in a file
Like the letter that was blown aside
Don't that make you want to smile?
No one was really satisfied
About number eighty-one
The autopsy proved that Peter lied
But they never could find the gun
No one saw the note beside the body
No one knew the problems
But my God
Suicide
What a song though!
Definitely, the guy is pure genius. I was reading this thread and whacked it on my iPod at work and it just reminded quite how talented he is, I've don't pretty much the first 3 albums today
Listen to it on your todd, with a bottle of whiskey in a darkened room and tell me it won't affect you!!
Pretty sure I did that when I was about 13 when it came out, thats why I'm so messed up now...