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Ladies and gentlemen
Harry's Harbour Bizarre is proud to present
Under the Big Top tonight
Human Oddities
That's right
You'll see the Three Headed Baby
You'll see Hitler's brain
See Lea Graff the German midget who sat in J.F. Morgan's lap
You'll see Priscilla Bajano
The monkey woman
Jo Jo the dog face boy
I'm Milton Malone, the human skeleton
See Grace McDaniel's
The mule faced woman
And she's the homeliest woman in the world
Under the Big Top tonight
Never before seen
And if you have a heart condition, please be warned
Don't forget to visit our snack bar at Charleston Grotto
Al lsales are final
Void where prohibited by law
You'll see Sealo the seal boy who has flippers for arms
You'll see Johnny Eck, the man born without a body
He walks on his hands
He has his own orchestra and is an excellent pianist
See Gerd Bessler, the human pincusion
And don't forget, it's ladies' night at Harvy's Harbour Bizarre
You'll see Ko Ko the bird girl
Mortando, the human fountain
Step a little
A little closer ladies and gentlemen and don't be shy
Dig deep in your pockets
You'll see Radion, the human torso
Deep from the jungles of Africa
Ladies and gentlemen, Harry's Harbour Bizarre
Ladies and gentlemen
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Come on a long with the Black Rider
We'll have a gay old time
Lay down in the web of the black spider
I'll drink your blood like wine
So come on in
It ain't no sin
Take off your skin
And dance around your bones
So come along with the Black Rider
We'll have a gay old time
Anchors away with the Black Rider
I'll drink your blood like wine
I'll drop you off in Harlem with the Black Rider
Out where the bullets shine
And when you're done
You cock your gun
The blood will run
Like ribbons in your hair
So come along wit hthe Black Rider
We'll have a gay old time
Come on along with the Black Rider
I've got just the thing for thee
Come on along with the Black Rider
I want your company
I'll have the veal
A lovely meal
That's how I feel
May I use your skull for a bowl
Come on along with the Black Rider
We'll have a gay old time
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No shadow
No stars
No moon
No care
November
It only believes
In a pile of dead leaves
And a moon
That's the color of bone
No prayers for November
To linger longer
Stick your spoon in the wall
We'll slaughter them all
November has tied me
To an old dead tree
Get word to April
To rescue me
November's cold chain
Made of wet boots and rain
And shiny black ravens
On chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
You're my firing squad
November
With my hair slicked back
With carrion shellac
With the blood from a pheasant
And the bone from a hare
Tied to the branches
Of a roebuck stag
Left to wave in the timber
Like a buck shot flag
Go away you rainsnout
Go away, blow your brains out
November
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There is a light in the forest
There is a face in the tree
I'll pull you out of the chorus
And the first one's always free
You can never go hunting
With just a flintlock and a hound
You won't go home with a bunting
If you blow a hundred rounds
It takes much more than wild courage
Or you'll hit just the tattered clouds
You must have just the right bullets
And the first one's always free
You must be careful in the forest
Broken glass and rusty nails
If you're to bring back something for us
I have bullets for sale
Why be a fool when you can chase away
Your blind and your gloom
I have blessed each one of these bullets
And they shine just like a spoon
To have sixty silver wishes
Is a small price to pay
They'll be your private little fishes
And they'll never swim away
I just want you to be happy
That's my only wish
I'll fix your wagon and your musket
And the spoon will have his dish
And I shudder at the thought of your
Poor empty hunter's pouch
So I'll keep the wind from your barrel
And bless the roof of your house
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(Walter Donaldson/Edgar Leslie)
When you hear sweet syncopation
And the music softly moans
T'ain't no sin to take off your skin
And dance around in your bones
When it gets too hot for comfot
And you can't get an ice cream cone
T'ain't no sin to take off your skin
And dance around your bones
Just like those bamboo babies
Down in the South Sea tropic zone
T'ain't no sin to take off your skin
And dance around your bones
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(Tom Waits/William Burroughs)
That's the way the stomach rumbles
That's the way the bee bumbles
That's the way the needle pricks
That's the way the glue sticks
That's the way the potato mashes
That's the way the pan flashes
That's the way the market crashes
That's the way the whip lashes
That's the way the teeth knashes
That's the way the gravy stains
That's the way the moon wanes
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I fell asleep down by the stream
And there I had the strangest dream
And down by Brennan's Glenn there grows
A briar and a rose
There's a tree in the forest
But I don't know where
I built a nest out of your hair
And climbing up into the air
A briar and a rose
I don't know how long it has been
But I was born in Brennan's Glenn
And near the end of spring there grows
A briar and a rose
P icked the rose one early morn
I pricked my finger on a thorn
It had grown so high
It's winding wove the briar around the rose
I tried to tear them both apart
I felt a bullet in my heart
And all dressed up in springs and clothes
The briar and the rose
And when I'm buried in my grave
Tell me so I will know
Your tears will fall
To make love grow
The briar and the rose
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I'll shoot the moon
Right out of the sky
For you baby
I'll be the pennies
On your eyes
For you baby
I want to take you
Out to the fair
Here's a red rose
Ribbon for your hair
I'll shoot the moon
Right out of the sky
For you baby
I'll shoot the moon
For you
A vulture circles
Over your head
For you baby
I'll be the flowers
After you're dead
For you baby
I want to build
A nest in your hair
I want to kiss you
And never be there
I'll shoot the moon
Right out of the sky
For you baby
I'll shoot the moon
For you
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(Tom Waits/William Burroughs)
The flash pan hunter sways with the wind
His rifle is the sound of the morning
Each sulfurous bullet way have it's own wit
Each cartridge comes with a warning
Beware of elaborate telescopic meats
They will find their way back to the forest
CHORUS
For Wilhelm can't wait
To be Peg Leg's crown
As the briar is strangling
The rose back down
His back shall be my slender new branch
It will sway and bend in the breeze
As the devil does his polka
Wit ha hatchet in his hand
As a sniper in the branches of the trees
As the vulture flutters down
As the snake sheds his dove
Wilhelm's cutting off his fingers
So they'll fit into his glove
CHORUS
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(Tom Waits/William Burroughs)
Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with, but there was bad
blood
In him; someway he got into the magic bullets and that leads straight to
Devil's work, just like marijuana leads to heroin; you think yo ucan take
Them bullets or leave 'em, do you?
Just save a few for your bad days
Well, now, we all have those bad days when you can't shoot for shit.
The more of them magics you use, the more bad days you have without
them
So it comes down finally to all your days being bad without the bullets
It's magics or nothing
Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
Kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead
And that's where old George found himself
Out there at the crossroads
Molding the Devil's bullets
Now a man figures it's his bullets, so it will
Hit what he wants to hit
But it don't always work that way
You see, some bullets is special for a single aim
A certain stag, or a certain person
And no matter where you are, that's where the bullet will end up
And in the moment of aiming, the gun turns into a dowser's wand
And point where the bullet wants to go
(George Schmid was moving in a series of convulsive spasms, like
someone
with an epileptic fit, with his face distorted and his eyes wild like a
lassoed horse bracing his legs. But something kept pulling him on. And
now
he is picking up the skulls and making the circle.)
I guess old George didn't rightly know what he's getting himself into
The fit was on him and it carried him right to the crossroads
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Come on people
Got to get on board
Train is leavin'
And there's room for one more
God, don't listen to the devil
He got ways to move you
This train don't carry no smokers
This train...
Well, come on people
'Cause it's startin' to rain
Get on board, it's the gospel train
Don't listen to the devil
Don't listen to the devil
Satan will fool you
Satan will fool you
I said Satan will fool you
Well, this train don't carry no smokers
This train
This train
Wooo
Wooo
Come on people: get on board
Train is leavin'
ANd there's room for one more
Just trust in the Lord
Wooo
Woooo
Woooo
Listen to me
Come on people
'Cause it's starting to rain
Get on board
Ride the gospel train
Don't listen to the devil
He got ways to move you
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The prettiest girl
In all the world
Is in a little Spanish town
But I left her for a Bonnie lass
And I told her
I'd see her around
But that Bonnie lass
And her heart of glass
Would not hold a candle
To bumming around
So don't cry for me
For I'm going away
And I'll be back some lucky day
Tell the boys back home
I'm doing just fine
I left my troubles and woe
So sing about me
For I can't come home
I've many more miles to go
Why, there's Miss Kelsey
You taught dance at our school
And old Johnny O'Toole
I'll still beat you at pool
So don't cry for me
For I'm going away
ANd I'll be back some lucky day
Now when I was a boy
My daddy sat me on his knee
And he told me
He told me many things
And he said sone
There's a lot of things in this world
You're gonna have no use for
ANd when you get blue
And you've lost all your dreams
There's nothin' like a campfire
And a can of beans
Why, there's Miss Kelsey
She taught dance at our school
And old Johnny O'Toole
I'll still beat you at pool
So don't cry for me
For I'm going away
And I'll be back some lucky day
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I love the way
The tattered clouds
Go wind across the sky
As summer goes
And leave me
With a tear in my eye
I'm taking out my winter clothes
My garden knows what's wrong
The petals of my favorite rose
Be in the shadows dark and long
Through every year
It's very clear
I should be used
To carrying on
But I can't be found
IN the garden
Singing this song
When the last
Rose of summer is gone
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