Best HMHB lyrics

Idesofmarch69 said:
Reading through these lyrics, the more convinced I am that Nigel Blackwell is a genius .
Click to expand...

Saw them play a small festival in the cotswolds few years back. Someone shouted out a song request, Nigel stopped playing momentarily- said " yeah, that's one of ours" and just carried on playing. If you take away the lyrics, they are actually quite talented musicians also.
 
There’s enough material to keep this thread going for a a good few years…

Not being a Dylan fan at all, I’d never heard the original until well after first hearing this. All I can say is that this improves on the original immeasurably.

With Goth on Our Side

Well my name it is Dai Young
I’m the King of Welsh Goth
The village I come from
Is near Abersoch
I was brought up on Bauhaus
And black bedroom walls
And I had my first Snakebite
When I was in halls
Now the graveyard is calling
The sky’s getting greyer
I’ll drink the warm blood of
The Borough Surveyor
And I’ll murder the verger
I’ve seen how he gawps
And I’ll write on his headstone:
“Here lies Jones the Corpse”
Now my overweight girlfriend
She sits and she crimps
Her mother’s convinced she’s
Communing with imps
Her brother’s alright though
He’s a good lad is Wilf
‘Cos he’s into Placebo
And Cradle Of Filth
At my gig up in Butlins
The Redcoats complained
They tried to remove me
The bottles they rained
But for the first time in history
I didn’t run and hide
And the scousers in shellsuits
Had goths on their side
Now this land of my fathers
It don’t suit my needs
I’d rather be some place
Like Bradford or Leeds
Where the Gipton teenagers
Could meet in my shed
For advice on mascara
And all things undead
Now my left index finger
Is nine inches long
It’s hovering over
A world that’s gone wrong
Ask me to Prestatyn
And that’s what I’ll do
And we’ll all die together
And Dylan can’t sue

 
Mention The Lord Of The Rings just once more
And I’ll more than likely kill you
Moorcock, Moorcock, Michael Moorcock you fervently moan
Is this a wok that you’ve shoved down my throat
Or are you just pleased to see me?
Brian Moore’s head looks uncannily like London Planetarium

And all those people who you romantically
Like to still believe are alive, are dead
So I’ll wipe my snot on the arm of your chair
As you put another Roger Dean poster on the wall

God I could murder a Cadbury’s Flake
But then I guess you wouldn’t let me into heaven
Or maybe you would
‘Cos their adverts promote oral sex

A Romany woman in a field with her paints
Suggesting we faint at her beauty
But she’s got Dickie Davies eyes

And all those people who you romantically
Like to still believe are alive, are dead
So I’ll wipe my snot on the arm of your chair
As you put another Roger Dean poster on the wall
 
Watching Autumnwatch in the week reminded me of Renfoot's Afoot ...

Notice was given of a bat walk in Royden Park, Frankby on Friday evening. Ranger-led, the event was free although booking was essential. Warm waterproof clothing was recommended, and perhaps a flask. Meet at the café car park at 7pm for a 7.30 start. Strictly no dogs.

My response to that was this:

“Who the fuck are you, trying to govern everybody’s bat walks?
Who the fuck are you, trying to be the big I Am?
Well, I know this place like the back of my hand
In a way you’ll never understand
So don’t go trying to organise my bat walks
I’ll be going on any-time-I-like walks
Tuesday, 2am. Bollocko.”

Only a genius can link American Pie to Crackerjack and provide a retort to "You'll Never Walk Alone" as in the end of Turned Up Clocked On Laid Off ...

The three men I admire most
The Father, Son and Mickie Most
Took the last train for the coast
And rendezvoused with Peter Glaze
To kill Don Maclean

Turned up (turned up)
Clocked on (clocked on)
Turned up, clocked on, laid off
Turned up (turned up)
Clocked on (clocked on)
Turned up, clocked on, laid off
Sign on with no hope in your heart
When you walk through a storm, you get wet
 
There's people driving round with thousands in the bank who can't spell weird right

Not long now until lollipop men are called Darren
 
Still thought I could play out wide
Felt sure I could stay onside
But stiff limbs and a shin which looks like
Inter’s end on derby day

No idea what the last line means but it makes me laugh.
 
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