Frank Zappa Album

Roy estrada (vocals, bass)
Adrian belew (guitar)
Ed mann (percussion)
Patrick o'hearn (bass)
Tommy mars (keyboards)
Peter wolf (keyboards)

It was the blackest night!
There was no moon in sight!
(you know the stars ain't shinin'
'cause the sky's too tight)
I heard the scary wind!
I seen some ugly trees!
There was a werewolf honkin',
'long the side of me!

I'm mean 'n I'm bad, (y'know I ain't no sissy)
Got a big-titty girly by the name of 'chrissy'
Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me...
'n this ride up the mountain of mystery, (mystery)

(how 're you doin'? )

I noticed even the crickets
Acted weird up here
And so I figured I might
Just drink a little beer
I said, gimme summa that what yer suckin' on...
But there was no reply
'cause she was gone!

Where's those titties I like so well,
'n' my goddam beer!
Is what I started to yell, then I heard this noise
Like a crunchin' twig, 'n up jumped the devil!
(he's about this big!)

He had a red suit on
An' a widow's peak
An' then a pointed tail
'n like a sulphur reek,
Yes, it was him awright,
I swear I knowed it was!
He had some human flesh
Stuck underneath his claws
You know, it looked to me
Like it was titty skin!
I said, you son-of-a-bitch!
('cause I was mad at him!)
He just got out his floss
'n started cleanin' his fang
So I shot him with my shooter,
Said: bang! bang! bang!

Then the sucker just laughed 'n said: put it away!
You know, I ate her all up...now what you
Gonna say?
You ate my chrissy?
Yeah! titties 'n all!
Well what about the beer then?
Now, were the cans this tall?
Even her boots?
Would I lie to you?
Shit, you musta been hungry!
Yeah, this is true.
Don't they pay you good for the
Stuff that you do?
Well, you know, I can't complain when the checks come through...
Well I want my chrissy,
Oh yeah?
'n I want my beer
Hah!
So you just barf it back up!
Now, devil, do you hear?
Look:
Blow it out your ass, motorcycle man!
I mean, I am the devil, do you understand?
Just what will you give me for your
Titties and beer?
I suppose you noticed this little
Contract here...
Yer goddam right, you son-of-a-whore!
Don't call me that!
That's about the only reason
I learned writin' for!
Gimme that paper! bet yer horns I'll sign!
Because I need a beer, 'n it's titty-
Squeezin' time!
Man, you can't fool me! you ain't that bad!
Oh yeah?
Why you shoulda seen some of the souls that I've had!
There was milhous nixon 'n agnew too!
'n both of those suckers was worse 'n you!
Let's make a deal if you think
That's true
I mean, you're supposed to be the devil so...whatcha
Gonna do?
Heh?

Now hold on just a second...
You wanna make a deal with me hah?
Yeah!
Well ah, I don't know man, you know...
I just don't know about this...
What?
See, cause i...
Listen, you're...are you losing your nerve?
No man, it ain't got nothin' to do with nerve...
You're supposed to be the devil!
It's got to do...
You're supposed to be bad!
It's got to do with style, fool!
I don't know if you've the right style to get into hell,
You know...
Well, actually, to tell you...tell you the honest to god
Truth,
I'm very short on style as a matter of fact...
Yeah, I know...that's...that's what makes me wonder
But I have...i, I think I have something that
You may be interested in...
What is that?
You can have my soul
It's a mean little sucker
'bout a thousand years old
But once you gets it
You can't give it back
You gotta keep it forever
An' that's a natural fact!
Ooh wee!
Do you read me devil?
Oh yeah!
What? am I supposed to be scared, man?
Oh yeah, reety, aw-righty!
Oh yeah, that's real tough!
I bet you're real bad!
Listen fool, you've got to prove to me that you're rough
Enough to get into hell
That you've got the style enough to get into hell
So start talkin'...
Alright, lemme tell ya somethin'
Alright!
I'll prove to you that I'm bad enough to go to hell
Yeah!
Because I have been through it!
Yeah!
I have seen it!
Yeah!
It has happened to me!
Yeah!
Remember, I was signed with warner brothers
For eight fuckin' years!!!
Tell me about it!
Now you're talkin' about something!
Now how bad is that?
That sounds good to me, motherfucker!
So move right along
Tell me what your interests are, you know...
If we're gonna come to some kind of agreement,
I've got to know what you're all about, you know...
'cause I don't know if you're the right type for the...
For the place, you know
Look...lemme tell you what my problem really is, you see
Ok...
My problem is that I don't belong anywhere
Aha...
You see... I don't even belong where you are, you see
I hope not!
I, I'm a simple person, you know
I have very small desires in life
Titties 'n beer, you know
No! what?
Titties 'n beer!
No! no man, you're joking...
Titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer...
What? no! no please... no! not that! oh no man, no!
Titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer...
No! no! no! no! no! not titties 'n beer!
Oh I can't stand titties 'n beer!...
Titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer, titties 'n beer...
(I'm in you! I'm in you!)
Oh no! no! no! wait...
Ah! look at this! what am I gonna do with this thing?
...wait, wait, please no!
Hey! look at this!

No! don't sign it! give me time to think!
...hold on a second, boy, 'cause...that's
Magic ink!

Then the devil barfed
'n out jumped my girl
They heard the titties plop-ploppin'
All around the world, she said:

I got three beers 'n a fist fulla downs,
An' I'm gonna get ripped, so fuck
You clowns!

Then she gave us the finger!
(it was rigid 'n stiff)
That's when the devil, she farted
An' she went right over the cliff!
The devil was mad!
(I took off to my pad)
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?

Alright!

I must be free
My fake I.D.
Freeeeeees me
Gotta do a few things
To make my life complete
I gotta live my life
Out on the street
The difference between us
Is not very far
Cruising for burgers
In daddy's new car
My phony freedom card
Brings to me
Instantly
ECSTASY

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Eddie Jobson (keyboards, violin, vocals)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals)
Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals)
Ruth Underwood (percussion, synthesizer)
Don Pardo (vocals)
David Samuels (vibes)
Randy Brecker (trumpet)
Mike Brecker (tenor saxophone, flute)
Lou Marini (alto saxophone, flute)
Ronnie Cuber (baritone saxophone, clarinet)
Tom Malone (trombone, trumpet, piccolo)
John Bergamo (percussion over-dub)
Ed Mann (percussion over-dub)
Louanne Neil (osmotic harp over-dub)

There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She was my steady date
Until she put on weight

na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na
boogedy boogedy

na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na
boogedy boogedy
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

Don Pardo: In today's rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device . . . Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers . . . One such case is seated before you . . . live on stage . . . yes, Terry Bozzio . . .

Terry: That's meeee!

Don Pardo: That cute little drummer . . . Terry recently felt in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called ANGEL . . . In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pootched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus . . .

Terry: Ooh, Punky . . .

Don Pardo: The sight of which drove the helpless drummer mad with desire!

I can't stand the way he pouts
('Cause he might not be pouting for me!)
Hah! Pouting for you?
Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
(Til I squirm with ecstasy!)

Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . Oh, Punky, isn't it romantic?

Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the shits
It's all wrong . . . but listen, this is no laughing matter

I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
Pay to see

Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . . PUNKY
(What's up, baby?)
You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh, you know that's the kind of stuff that I like to hear)
You're too much

He's been havin' a rash
(No shit)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say

I wonder if Punky is rehearsin' today
I'll just go over, 'n hear him play
His hair is so pretty . . . I'd like to bite his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
(Dig this . . . )
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay)
A wrist array-he-hey
(That's all it is)

Punky's lips, Punky's lips
Oh, I love his hair, eatin' dunk-y chips
Yes, I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY! YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER! YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY! GET FUNKY!

I AIN'T QUEER
(NO NO NO NO)
I AIN'T GAY
(NO NO NO NO)
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-he-he-he-hey)
A wrist array-hey
(One more time for the world!)
And then he said:
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ay-hay)

I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
I'm a little fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey

FZ: Thank you . . . Our birthday boy, Terry Bozzio, sad but true . . . Just a minute . . .

Honey honey
Baby don't you want a man like me
Honey honey
Baby don't you want a man like me

He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
His fav'rite phrase was "OUTA-SITE!"
He had an Irish Setter

It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
The moon was dim, the band was tight
They did the Bump together

What a splendid sight, her teeth were white
The drinks were cheap (it was Ladies Nite)
He was glad that he had met her

She was an office girl (her name was Betty)
Her fav'rite group was HELEN REDDY
(They discussed the weather)

CHORUS REPEAT

She was a lonely sort, just a little too short
Her jokes were dumb and her fav'rite sport
Was hockey (in the winter)

He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
Any sport with a PUCK had to be 'bout the best
As he jabbed his elbow in her (get it honey?)

Later on they went off to where the music was soft,
The candles were drippy, they saw a REAL HIPPY
Who delivered their dinner

The rice was brown, and soon they found
That the crowd around that had jammed the room,
Well it seemed to be getting thinner

CHORUS REPEAT

He took her home to a motor court
She wouldn't kiss him, he tried to ignore it,
But it made him angry!

He called her a slut, a pig and a whore
A bitch and a cunt and she slammed the door
In a petulant frenzy!

On the sofa she weeps
BOO HOO HOO HOO
She weeps and she weeps
BOO HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO
She weeps and she peeps
Through the curtain

He just got in his car
But the battery's dead
So he asks to use the phone
And she gives him some head
And that's the end of the story

CHORUS REPEAT

The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard he's on the loose
I heard he's on the loose
Lord, the pitiful screams
Of all them college-educated women...
Boy, he'd just be tyin' 'em up
(They'd be all bound down!)
Just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with the bag fulla
The Illinois Bandit Juice

(repeat)

The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard it on the news
I heard it on the news
Bloomington Illinois...he has caused some alarm
Just sneakin' around there
From farm to farm
Got a rubberized bag
And a horse on his arm
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump

(repeat)

The Illinois Enema Bandit
Some day he'll have to pay
Some day he'll have to pay
The police will say, "You're under arrest!"
And the judge would have him for a special guest
The D.A. will order a secret test
And stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
Then they'll put out a call for the jury folks
And the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
Then they'll drag in the bandit for all to see,
Sayin', "Don't nobody have no sympathy...
HOT SOAPY WATER in the FIRST DEGREE!"
And the Bandit might say, "Why is everybody always pickin' on me?"
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
One girl shout: "Let the Bandit be!"
BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY? TELL ME, WHAT'S YOUR PLEA?
Another girl shout: "Let the fiend go free!"
ARE YOU GUILTY? BANDID, DID YOU DO THESE DEEDS?
The Bandit say: "It must be just what they all needs..."
etc. repeat

I am gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little had changed
I am the tool of the Government
And Industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you
I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I am the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I am the slime oozing out
From your TV set

You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help, no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold

"That's right, folks.. Don't touch that dial!"

Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livingroom floor
I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, look at me go

[No lyrics]

[No lyrics]

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Eddie Jobson (keyboards, violin, vocals)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals)
Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals)
Ruth Underwood (percussion, synthesizer)
Don Pardo (vocals)
David Samuels (vibes)
Randy Brecker (trumpet)
Mike Brecker (tenor saxophone, flute)
Lou Marini (alto saxophone, flute)
Ronnie Cuber (baritone saxophone, clarinet)
Tom Malone (trombone, trumpet, piccolo)
John Bergamo (percussion over-dub)
Ed Mann (percussion over-dub)
Louanne Neil (osmotic harp over-dub)

All right now, watch this. Let me tell you about this song. This song was originally constructed as a drum solo. That's right. Now, after Terry learned how to play The Black Page on the drum set, I figured, well, maybe it would be good for other instruments. So I wrote a melody that went along with the drum solo. And that turned into The Black Page part 1, the hard version. Then I said, well, what about the other people in the world, who might enjoy the melody of The Black Page, but couldn't really approach its statistical density in its basic form. So, I went to work and constructed a little diddy which is now being set up for you at this little disco type vamp. This is The Black Page part 2, the easy teenage New York version. Get down with your bad selves so to speak to The Black Page part 2.

Thank you.

Did anybody dance?

There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She was my steady date
Until she put on weight

There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma

ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma

(Sock it to me!)

There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

( . . . my love . . . )

[No lyrics]

Frank Zappa (lead guitar)
Ike Willis (guitar)
Ray White (guitar)
Bobby Martin (keyboards, saxophone)
Alan Zavod (keyboards)
Scott Thunes (bass)
Chad Wackerman (drums)

(Instrumental)

Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumblin
Piss they clothes
Scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window-hole
Hundred yards away
That all they ever get to know
'bout the regular life in the day
'bout the regular life in the day

Slime and rot and rats and snuck
Vomit on the floor
Fifty ugly soldier men
Holdin' spears by the iron door
Stinks so bad, stones are chokin'
Weepin' greenish drops
In the den where
The giant fire puffer woiks
And the torture never stops
The torture never stops, torture
The torture never stops
The torture never stops

Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin' pig
In a tumbers right near there
In the chambers right near there
He eats de snouts an trotters first!
The loins and the groins are then dispersed
His carvin style is well rehearsed
He stands and shouts
All men be cursed (4x)
And disagree it, well no one durst
He the best of cause of all the woist
Best of cause of all the woist

He stinks so bad his stones been chokin'
Weepin' greenish drops
In the room with the iron maiden
And the torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops

Flies all green and buzzin'
In dungeon of despair
Who are'll those people
That is shut away down there
Are they crazy
Are they sainted
Are they heroes someone painted
Someone painted
Are they -isms
Later ornated
Once they come they have been tainted
Once they come they have been tainted
Never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon and his kin'
Require naught but lockin' in
Of any anything thats been
Could be a her but it's probly a him
Could be a her but it's probly a him
Its what's the deal were dealin' in
Its what's the deal were dealin' in
An he stinks so bad it's hurt
To the pearl and the piles of blast
Any dungeon have a trailer
Were the torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, torture
Torture never stops
Torture never stops, talkin' to you
Torture never stops

[No lyrics]