Frank Zappa Album

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)

Theodor Bikel:
Ladies and gentlemen!

Chorus:
200 motels

Theodor Bikel:
200 motels.. Life on the road.

Theodor Bikel:
Ladies and gentlemen! and here he is..
Who?
Larry the dwarf.
Larry likes to dress up funny. Tonight he's dressed up like Frank Zappa.
Let's ask him "What's the deal?"

Ow! Look out!
Ow! Look out!
Ow! Look out!

How long?
How long?
Till that mystery roach be arrivin' soon
Ya-ooo
Ya-ooo
Ya-ooo
Ya-ooo

That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!

How long?
How long?
Till that mystery roach been gone
Ya-ooo-ooo-oo-ooo
Ya-ooo-ooo-oo-ooo

That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!
That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!

Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!

Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!

Ah! Hold it!
Wait a minute!
Stop that music!
Please . . .
Hold it!
Wait a minute!
Ah . . .
What are we SINGING about?
A mystery roach?
We must be . . . FLIPPING OUT!

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
This town.. this town..
This town we're in is just a
Sealed Tuna Sandwich with the wrapper glued.

Mark Volman:
We get a few in every tour.

Howard Kaylan:
I think we've played this one before.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
This town.. this town..
is just a Sealed
Tuna Sandwich.
Sealed
Tuna Sandwich
with the wrapper glued ...
It's by baloney on the rack
It goes for 40 cents a whack.
It's just a place for us to play
to help us pay
the cost of the tickets
back to L.A.
the cost of the tickets
back to L.A.
the cost of the tickets
back to L.A.

Chorus:
All the people in the Sandwich Town
think the place is great.
What if part of it's crumbling down?
Most of them prob'ly won't be 'round ...

Howard Kaylan:
They'll either be dead..

Mark Volman:
or moved to San Francisco.

Howard Kaylan:
( Where everybody thinks they're Heavy Business.
But it's just a Tuna Sandwich from another catering service. )

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
This town.. this town..
This town we're in is just a
Sealed Tuna Sandwich with the wrapper glued.

Mark Volman:
We get a few in every tour.

??:
They're always such a fucking bore.
I can't wait till we blow this town and
work a place with some local hot action!

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
This town.. this town..
is just a Sealed
Tuna Sandwich.
Sealed
Tuna Sandwich
with the wrapper glued ...
It's by baloney on the rack
It goes for 40 cents a whack.
It's just a rancid little snack
in a plastic bag
from a matron in La Habre with a blown-out crack
who dies to suck the fringe off of Jimmy Carl Black.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)
Jimmy Carl Black (vocals)


Jimmy Carl Black:
My name is Burtram, I am a redneck.
All my friends, they call me Burt.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Hi, Burt!

Jimmy Carl Black:
All my family from down in Texas
make their livin' diggin' dirt.

Come out here to Californy
just to find me some pretty girls.
Ones I seen gets me so horny
ruby lips,
n'teeth like pearls.

Wanna love 'em all.
Wanna love 'em dearly.
Wann pretty girl,
I'll even pay ...

I'll buy 'em furs. I'll buy 'em jewelry ...
I know they like me. Here's what I'll say.

I'm lonesome cowboy Burt.
( Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt.
( Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants,
my cowboy dance,
my bold advance.
On this here waitress ...

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
He's lonesome cowboy Burt.
Don'tcha get his feelings hurt.

Jimmy Carl Black:
Come on in this place
an' I'll buy you a taste.
You can sit on my face.
Where's my waitress?

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Burtram, Burtram redneck.
Burtram, Burtram redneck.

Jimmy Carl Black:
I'm an awful nice guy.
Sweat all day in the sun.
I'm a roofer by trade,
quite a bundle I've made
I'm unionized roofin' old
Son-of-a-gun.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
He's a unionized roofin' old
son-of-a-gun.

Jimmy Carl Black:
When I get off, I get plastered.
I drink till I fall on the floor.
Find me some Communist bastard
n' stomp on his face till he don't
move no more.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
He stomps on his face till he don't
move no more.

Jimmy Carl Black:
I fuss an' I cuss and I keep on drinkin'
till my eyes puff up an' turn red.
I drool on m'shirt.
I see if he's hurt.
Then I kick him again in the head, let's

Everybody:
Kick him again in the head! Boys!
Kick him again in the head! Now!
Kick him again in the head!

Jimmy Carl Black:
I'm lonesome cowboy Burt.
( Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt.
( Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants,
my cowboy dance,
my bold advance.
On this here waitress ...

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
He's lonesome cowboy Burt.
Don'tcha get his feelings hurt.

Jimmy Carl Black:
Come on in this place
an' I'll buy you a taste.
You can sit on my face.
Where's my waitress?
Opal, you hot little bitch!

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Went on the road
for a month touring.

What a drag...
You gotta go
even if you'd rather be at home.
Flaked out
in Hollywood.
drove to Inglewood and then we dumped
all our shit into the plane at five-O-three

( What's it gonna be? )

Mark Volman:
Chicken, beef or turkey?

Howard Kaylan:
La La La La

Mark Volman:
Would you like a snack?

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Jimmy Carl Black:
Hey, who are these dudes? Are you a boy, or a girl?
Ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha.

What the fuck was that?
I wonder if that son of a bitch can play something I might even like.
Hey twerp, play me something I can enjoy.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Centerville.
A real nice place to raise your kids up.
Centerville.
It's really neat!

Churches.
Churches, and liquor stores.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
She painted up her face.
She sat before the mirror.
She painted up her face.
She drew the mirror nearer.

Practisissing, Practiss, Practising!

The STARE
The STARE
The secret stare she would use
if a worthy-looking victim should appear.

Practisissing, Practiss, Practising!
( Ah-hoo-ah-hoo-wah-hoo-wahhhh )
Practisissing, Practiss, Practising!

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
The clock upon the wall
has struck the midnight hour.
She finishes her call.
Her girlfriend's in the shower.

Practisissing, Practiss, Practising!

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Half a dozen provocative squats!
Out of the shower she squeezes her spots.
Brushes her teeth.
Shoots a deoderant spray up her twat...
It's getting her
getting her hot.
It's getting her
getting her hot.
Oh-woh-woh-woh-woh-woh

She's just twenty four
and she can't get off.
A sad, but typical case, yeah.

The last dude to do her
got in and got soft.
She blew it
and laughed in his face, yeah.
Yeah.

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
She chooses all the clothes
she'll wear tonight to dance in.
(She dances, she prances, she dances, she prances)
The places that she goes
are filled with guys from groups,
yeah-yeah-yeah
Waiting for a chance to break her pants in.

Provocative squats!
Gum me on m'lunga
Provocative squats!
Gum me on m'lunga
Provocative squats!
Gum me on m'lunga
Provocative squats!
Gum me on m'lunga

Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah
Wah wah wah wah wah wah

Well at least there's sort of a choice there.
(Twenty or thirty at times there have been )
Somewhat desirable boys there.
Dressed really spiffy with long hair.
Waiting for girls they can shove it right in.

Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah
Wah wah wah wah wah wah

Well at least there's sort of a choice there.
(Twenty or thirty at times there have been )
Somewhat desirable boys there.
Dressed really spiffy with long hair.
Waiting for girls they can shove it right in.

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Chorus:
200 Motels
200 Motels
han toon ran toon ran
200 Motels


Jeff Simmons:
I'm stealing the towels.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)

Bad conscience:
Han min noon toon han toon han

Good conscience:
No, jeff!

Bad conscience:
Han toon ran toon ran toon fran min han toon ran toon nan toon fram

Good conscience:
No no no!

Jeff Simmons:
Man! This stuff is great! It's just as if Donovan himself had appeared on my very own TV with words of peace, love, and eternal cosmic wisdom. Leading me. Guiding me. On paths of everlasting pseudo-karmic negligence, in the very midst of my drug-induced nocturnal emission.

Good conscience:
I am your good conscience, Jeff. I know all. I see all. I am a cosmic love pulse matrix, becoming a technicolor interpositive.

Jeff Simmons:
Hmm? Where'd you buy that incense? It's hip.

Good conscience:
It's the same mysterious exotic oriental fragrance as what the Beatles get off on.

Jeff Simmons:
I thought I recognized it. Mmm, what is that, musk?

Good conscience:
Jeff, I know what's good for you.

Jeff Simmons:
Right. You're heavy.

Good conscience:
Yes Jeff, I am your guiding light. Listen to me. Don't rip off the towels, Jeff!

Bad conscience:
Piss off, you little nitwit.

Jeff Simmons:
Hey man, what's the deal?

Good conscience:
Don't listen to him Jeff, he's no good. He'll make you do bad things!

Jeff Simmons:
You mean ... he'll make me sin?

Good conscience:
Yes, Jeff. Sin!

Jeff Simmons:
Wow!

Bad conscience:
Jeff, I'd like to have a word with you. About your soul.

Good conscience:
No, don't listen Jeff!

Bad conscience:
Why are you wasting your life, night after night playing this comedy music?

Jeff Simmons:
You're right, I'm too heavy to be in this group.

Bad conscience:
Comedy music.

Good conscience:
Jeff, your soul!

Jeff Simmons:
In this group, all I ever get to do is play Zappa's comedy music. He eats!

Good conscience:
Jeff!

Jeff Simmons:
I get so tense.

Bad conscience:
Of course you do my boy.

Jeff Simmons:
The stuff he makes me do is always off the wall.

Bad conscience:
That's why it would be best to leave his stern employ.

Jeff Simmons:
And quit the group!

Bad conscience:
You'll make it big!

Jeff Simmons:
That's right.

Bad conscience:
Of course!

Jeff Simmons:
And then I won't be small! Heh-heh-heh-heh!

Ahmet Ertegun used this towel as a bathmat six weeks ago at a rancid motel in Orlando, Florida, with the highest mildew rating of any commercial lodging facility within the territorial limits of the United States, naturally excluding tropical possessions. [sniffs] Urh-urh-urh! It's still damp. What an aroma! This is the best I ever got off! What can I say about this elixir? Try it on steaks! Cleans nylons! Small-craft warnings! It's made for the home! the office! on fruits!

Bad conscience:
This is the real you, Jeff. Rip off a few more ashtrays. Get rid of some of that inner tension. Quit the comedy group! Get your own group together. Heavy! Like Grand Funk, or Black Sabbath.

Good conscience:
No, Jeff...

Jeff Simmons:
Or Coven!

Good conscience:
Peace... Love...

Bad conscience:
Bollocks.

Jeff Simmons:
What can I say about this elixir?

Mark Volman:
Jeff has gone out there on that stuff!

Good conscience:
He should have never have used the elixir and only stuck to the incense. O Atlantis!

Mark Volman:
That was Billy the Mountain, dressed up like Donovan, fading out on the wall-mounted TV screen. Jeff is flipping out. Road fatigue! We've got to get him back to normal before Zappa finds out, steals it, and makes him do it in the movie.

Bad conscience:
You have a brilliant career ahead of you my boy. Just get out of this group!

Mark Volman:
Howard, that was Studebacher Hoch, dressed up like Jim Pons, giving career guidance to the bass player of a rock-oriented comedy group. Jeff's imagination has gone beyond the fringe of audience comprehension.

Howard Kaylan:
Jeff, Jeff it's me! The Phlorescent Leech!

Mark Volman:
Jeff, Jeff it's me! Eddie!

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Wowwww! what can I say about this elixir?

[note: the following three paragraphs are simultaneous and with wildly fluctuating pitch.]

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Put it on your steaks, uh, send it overseas, [? ? ? ? ], and put it on you surfboard so you won't slip off. try it on your [? ? ? ], and on the, the red balloons, you can blow up all balloons with
Put it on your... heh. on your pizza. put it on your shoes, tie your mic with it, and fill up your tires with it.

Use it to clean your swimming pool, sell it to your mother and tell her it's a tie-die kit, you won't even believe what'll happen when you starch your shirt with it, ironing goes easier and your
Windows never looked better in your whole life. ladies and gentlemen, you can inhale it, and it makes your voice three keys higher, and you can't even stand what happens when you put it on your
As hair tonic. heh, heh. and if you ever tried it as a...

Soak your shirts in it, soak your teeth in it. let it play the piano. follow it around the block. wear it instead of jeans. bathe you puppies with it. feed it to your ducks. use it instead of ch
E in your swimming pool. breathe it. [? ] it.

What?

Wowwwwww!

What can i?

Wowwwwww!

What? what can I say about this?

Wowwwwww!

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Bad Concience:
Does this kind of life look interesting to you? Night after night, dinners with Herb Cohen. Thrill-packed, fun-filled evenings on the French Riviera at the MIDEM convention. A big tie, the whole bit. Watch Mutt eat, and Leon feed the geese. One thousand green business cards, with your name and the wrong address. Plus six royalty statements, inspected and customized by ran toon tan han toon frammet and dee. Followed by twelve potential suicides as the members of your group, past and present, find out they can't collect unemployment. A dog, a car, an epidemic of body lice with your own record company, your name on the door, electric buzzer to the inner office, and [?] tits, and a three month supply of German bookings with tickets on Air Rangoon. Does this kind of life look interesting to you? As a big rock and roll guitar player in a comedy group?

Chorus:
Hunna hunna hunna.
200 Motels. 200 Motels. 200 Motels.

Jeff Simmons:
I'm stealing the room. I'm stealing the room. I'm stealing the room.

Chorus:
???????
???????
I'm stealing I'm stealing ??????

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?

She's such a dignified lady,
she's so pretty and soft.
You can't call her a Groupie,
it just pisses her off.
She's got diamonds and jewelry,
she's got lotsa new clothes.
She ain't hurtin' nobody,
so that everyone knows,
that she knows what she wants,
knows what she likes.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Look out... she's got her eyes on you.

She left her place after midnight,
she drove to the club.
You know that her and her partner,
came here lookin' for love.
They want a guy from a group
That's got a thing in a charts
If your dick is a monster
If your dick is a monster
If your dick is a monster
They will give him their hearts.

'Cause they know what they want,
And they know what they like.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Daddy, daddy, daddy.
Look out... she's got her eyes on you.

FAM-BAM-YAK-A-TA-TAHHH!

They know what they want,
They know what they like.
Daddy, daddy, daddy...oooh
Daddy, daddy, daddy...oooh
Daddy, daddy, daddy...oooh.
Aw right, you got 'em screamin' all night,
screamin' all night.

Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
( Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do, do it? )
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do, do it? )

It's a cherry. You're a [?].

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman:
Penis dimension.

Howard Kaylan:
Penis dimension.

Everybody:
Penis dimension is worrying me.
I can't hardly sleep at night
'Cause of penis dimension

Do you worry?
Do you worry a lot?

No!

Do you worry?
Do you worry and moan ...
That the size of your cock is not monsrtous enough?

It's your penis dimension!
Penis dimension!

Howard Kaylan:
Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah

Mark Volman:
Hiya friends. Now just be honest about it. Did you ever consider the possibliity that your penis, and in the case of many dignified ladies, that the size of the titties themselves might provide elements of subconscious tension? Weird, twisted anxieties that could force a human being to have to become a politician. A policeman. A jesuit monk. A rock and roll guitar player. A wino. You name it. Or in the case of the ladies, the ones that can't afford a silicone beef-up, may become writers of hot books.

Howard Kaylan:
"Manuel, the gardener, placed his burning phallus in her quivering quim."

Mark Volman:
Yes, or they become Carmelite nuns.

Howard Kaylan:
"Gonzo, the lead guitar player, placed his mutated member in her slithering slit." Ha ha ha!

Mark Volman:
Ooh, or racehorse jockeys. There is no reason why you, or your loved one should suffer. Things are bad enough, without the size of your organ adding even more misery to the troubles of the world.

Howard Kaylan:
Right on, right on!

Mark Volman:
Now, if your a lady and you've got munchkin tits, you can console yourself with this age-old line from primary school:

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Anything over a mouthful, is wasted.

Mark Volman:
Yes! and isn't it the truth? And if you're a guy, one night you're at a party and you're trying to be cool, I mean, you aren't even wearing any underwear your being so cool, and somebody hits on you one night, and looks you up and down and he says uh,

Howard Kaylan:
Eight inches or less?


Mark Volman:
Well let me tell you, brother, that's the time when you got to turn around and look that son of a bitch right between the eyes. And you got to tell him these words:

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
What will this evening
bring me this morning?

What will this evening
bring me this morning?
Dawn will arrive
without any warning.

What will I say
the next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
(If things go alright.)

What will I say
the next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
( Will she be outasite?)

What will this evening
bring me this morning?
What will this evening
bring me this morning?
A succulent fat one!
A mod little flat one,
maybe a hot one (to give me the clap!)
maybe a freak who gets off with a strap.

{repeat and fade out}

What will I say
the next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
(If things go alright.)

What will I say
the next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
( Will she be outasite?)

Female Soprano:
Why don't you strap on this here bunch of cardboard boxes daddy-o?

Chorus:
Joy of my desiring

Female Soprano:
You certainly look suave and get me hot.

Chorus:
Hot hot. Get me hot

Female Soprano:
And horny.
If there's one thing I really get off on,
it's a nun suit painted on some old boxes.

Chorus:
Some old melodies.

Female Soprano:
Four-four... an aura

Chorus:
An areola

Female Soprano:
Pink gums. Stumpy gray teeth.

Chorus:
Dental floss.

Female Soprano:
Gets me hot. Want to watch a dental hygiene movie?

Ooh, the way you love me baby
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me sugar
I get so hard now I could die

Open up your pocketbook
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter mama
And try me on for size

Ooh, the way you squeeze me baby
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me girl
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes

Open up your pocketbook
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook
Get another quarter out
Drop it in the meter mama
And try me on for size

Do you really wanna please me?

Y'know I do ... baby

Well, tell me why you do it...
I really wanna know

Oh no no, I wouldn't be right
For me to tell ya tonight...

You better tell me right away
Or I'll dress up and go

Don't get mad... it ain't no big thing

You better tell me right away
Don't you treat me cold!

Hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it!

Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd drag a girl such as yourself back to this plastic hotel room ...and rip you off for spare change to run a ...to run a vibrating machine attached to this
N-size, bulk-purchase, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed and, and make you take off all your little clothes ... until you are nearly stark raving nude. Save for
Chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong peace medallion) and make you assume a series of marginally erotic poses involving a plastic chair and an old guitar strap while I did a wee-wee in your hair
And beat you with a pair of tennis shoes I got from jeff beck...

[No lyrics]

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Chorus:
Dew on the newts we got. Newt money dew.
It's a payment on the rental for the dewy little newts we got.
We got 'em dewy. Left 'em in the yard all night,
though they didn't get uptight.
The little vixens, the saucy little vixens, [? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?].
I know that they did not, did not,
I know that they did not dash off into the night

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Chorus:
The lad searches the night for his newts.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Male Tenore:
The girl wants to fix him some broth.

Female Soprano:
Tinselcock!

Chorus:
Tinselcock!

Female Soprano:
Would you like some broth?

Male Tenore:
Some nice soup.

Female Soprano:
Some hot broth.

Male Tenore:
Small dogs in it.

Female Soprano:
Do you

Male Tenore:
You like broth? Dog broth.

Female Soprano:
Hot broth.

Male Tenore:
You like dog broth hot? How do you like it? The four styles of it

the breathe broth breath, and the ever popular hygienic European version,
Tinselcock!
Tinselcock!

Chorus:
Tinselcock!

Male Tenore:
Which do you choose?

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Male Tenore:
The girl, in a statement to the press, explains:

Mark volman (vocals)
Howard kaylan (vocals)
Ian underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley dunbar (drums)
George duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin lickert (bass)
Ruth underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim pons (vocals)

Female soprano:
Broth reminds me of nuns.

Chorus:
( nuns... nuns...)


Female soprano:
I see them smashing with rulers
Disciplining munchkin cretins.
Tortured munchkins, tortured munchkins
I wish irish catholic victims.
Little green scratchy sweaters,
Little green scratchy ones
And courderoy ponce.
Courderoy ponce
And green scratchy munchkin.
I wish irish catholic victims.
Munchkins get me hot.
Munchkins get me get me hot.

Hot! gets her real hot.

Mark Volman (vocals)
Howard Kaylan (vocals)
Ian Underwood (keyboards, woodwinds)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
George Duke (keyboards, trombone)
Martin Lickert (bass)
Ruth Underwood (orchestra drum set)
Jim Pons (vocals)


Theodor Bikel:
This, as you might have guessed, is the end of the movie. The entire cast is assembled here at the Centerville Recreational Facility to bid farewell to you, and to express thanks for your attendance at this theatre. This might seem old fashioned to some of you, but I'd like to join in on this song. It's the kind of a sentimental song that you get at the end of a movie. It's the kind of a song that people might sing to let you in the audience know that we really like you and care about you. We uh, understand how hard it is to laugh these days, with all the terrible problems in the world.

Lord, have mercy on the people in England,
for the terrible food these people must eat.
( Errrr, excuse me )
And may the lord have mercy on the fate of this movie
and God bless the mind of the man in the street.

Chorus:
Help all the rednecks and the flatfoot policemen
through the terrible functions they all must perform.
God help the winos, the junkies, and the weirdos,

Female Soprano:
And every poor soul who's adrift in the storm.

Chorus:
Help everybody, so they all get some action,
some love on the weekend, some real satisfaction.

Female Soprano:
A room and a meal
And a garbage disposal
A lawn and a hose'll
Be strictly genteel.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Reach out your hand to the girl in the dog book,
the girl in the pig book, and the one with the horse.
Make sure they keep all those businessmen happy
and the purple-lipped censors and the Germans of course.

Chorus:
Help everybody, so they all get some action,
some love on the weekend, some real satisfaction.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
A Swedish apparatus with a hood and a bludgeon
with a microwave oven. "Honey, how do it feel?"


Everybody:
Yeah
Ahhh

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Lord, have mercy on the hippies and faggots
and the dykes and the weird little children they grow.

Help the black man.
Help the poor man.
Help the milk man.
Help the door man.
Help the lonely, neglected old farts that I know.

Theodore Bikel:
It's been swell havin' you with us tonight folks.

Mark Volman:
But, don't leave the theatre yet, 'cause there's still more to come, but before we go on, I want to introduce to you my friend and musical associate, Howard Kaylan, who's going to give us all a final closing benediction.

Howard Kaylan:
They're going to clear out the studio...
They're going to tear down all the...
They're going to whip down all the...
They're going to sweep out all the...
They're going to pay off all the...

Mark Volman:
(oh, yeah!)

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
And then... and then... and then... and then...

Hey hey hey, everybody in the orchestra and the chorus
Aww now, every one of our lovely and talented dancers
the light bulb men, camera men, make-up men


Mark Volman:
(The fake-up men)

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
And, the rake-up men.

Jimmy Carl Black:
(Especially Herbie Cohen, yeahoooo...)

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
They're all going to rise up.
They're going to jump up! I said jump up!
Talkin' 'bout jump right up on off the floor.
Jump right up and hit the door!

Mark Volman:
They're all going to rise up, and jump off.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
They're going to ride on home.
They're going to ride on home.
They're going to ride on home.
They're going to ride on home.

Howard Kaylan:
And once again take themselves seriously.
Yeah, Two, three, four, seriously.

Mark Volman:
They're all going to go home,

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Through the driving sleet and rain

Mark Volman:
They're all going to go home,

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
through the fog, through the dust.
Through the tropical fever and the blistering frost.

Mark Volman:
They're all going to go home.

Howard Kaylan:
And get out of it as they can be.

Jimmy Carl Black:
And the same goes for me.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!

Howard Kaylan:
And each and every member of this rock oriented comedy group
in his own special way is going to get out of it as he can be.

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
They're all going to get wasted.
They're all going to get twisted.
They're all going to get wasted.
They're all going to get twisted.

Howard Kaylan:
And I am definitely going to get ....

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
REAMED

Howard Kaylan:
'Cause I'm such a lonely.. I'm such a lonely..
a lonely, lonely, talkin' 'bout a lonely guy.

Oh, and I know tonight, I am definitely...
I am positively... I just have to get...

Mark Volman & Howard Kaylan:
Bent, reamed and wasted.

Jimmy Carl Black:
A disaster area the size of Atlantic City, New Jersey.

Howard Kaylan:
He's making me do this, ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn't do it if it weren't for this. You noticed, all through this material, I've been glancing over toward my left? Well, I'll tell you the reason for that ladies and gentlemen. HE is over there. HE is over on the left. HE is the guy that is making me do all this shit. Right over there. Now all through this movie, every time we've been on stage, I've had to look over in that direction, right? You saw it... you know! Well that's 'cause HE's over there. I've got to watch him for signs. He jumps up and down like a jackass. I can't even believe the guy sometimes. But we gotta watch him. "After all," we said, "it's Frank's movie." Now, we're THE MOTHERS, but it's still Frank's movie. He rented the studio, had all these cheesy sets built...it's so moche!. He's telling everybody, right now, right over there to...(text obscured by disaster area, fades out)