A Morality Play – Chumbawamba

People would have to be told that if they refuse to answer questions when they might be expected to answer questions, that is something which can be used at the trial and which might strengthen the case against them.
Hang Michael Howard, oh c’mon…
Act one, the smell of green leather, French polish, quite pristine, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle, not a crease, the silverware all clean. Exquisite chaussures grace marble floors, be upstanding, for men of yore. But wait, who’s this, sticky under the collar in Elsinore? Enter silent comedy geek with dynamite down his pants. Nervous, shuffling on his feet, leading a merry song and dance. A back seat driver of good moral fibre, holding up the light. He’s made his own bed, now he’s got to lie in it. Ho hum, it serves him right.
Act three, ‘I am the lord of the dance,’ said he. John the Baptist, dripping wet, playing sir politick-would-be. Backslapping, backsliding, back to basic instincts, backfiring. By your own choice you’re on a hiding to nothing, I ask you which is more comforting? The thought that I am bad seed, gone to seed, turned sour by TV sex and violence. Or even worse, am I unleashed by my own volition to do you ill? ‘Condemn a little more, understand a little less.’ Oh sad sir, thou jest! Ha ha! I am Prometheus, prepare thee to meet thy nemesis.
Thanks a lot

By admin on October 28, 2013 | A Song Lyrics | A comment?

A Fairy Tale (Real No-Shit) – Chumbawamba

Chapt. Two – Guess who? Manfred The Great
The great king bashed down his goblet on the oaken table as kings do when they want more wine. Everyone was silent. ‘Minstrel the noise of chattering women grates on my ears. Play me some music,’ he bellowed.
A fairy tale handed down
I believed it, didn’t we all
A man, a hero, walks on to the scene
Unquestionably good at everything
First he does battle with various creatures
Which compared to his goodness are evil monsters
Having made dragons extinct forever
He murders a couple of the castle guards
He enters the castle quite unnoticed
And tells the girl he’ll be back for her
‘And so I shall make her mine forever’
But runs into trouble and is taken prisoner
Is taken to the big bad, bad, bad, baddy
Baddy tells hero how goodness is finished
And has him strapped up to a slow-death device
But he escapes as the rope starts to burn through
The blade crashes down on the block where his head was
With a sword from the wall he finishes the castle guards
A lamp gets knocked over in the panic and a fire starts
A race against time to rescue the princess
To get past the baddy to get out of the castle
Out of the window where the horses are waiting
The couple ride off and the whole place goes up in flames

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99. Back Home – Chumbawamba

“Back home, they’ll be thinking about us
When we are far away…
Back home, they’ll be really behind us
In every game we play…”

By admin on October 19, 2013 | # Song Lyrics | A comment?

93. Groundhopping – Chumbawamba

Another Sunday match again
Another Merseyside clash again
It’s the 36th this season
By my calculations
That’s when I made the decision
To stay in the lower divisions
Travelling from town to town
Hopping round from ground to ground
For the character and determination
In the face of bankruptcy
For the passion and dedication
Despite the threat of the Vauxhall League
And the stands may be empty
And the bank account too
But there’s something in my stomach
Says they’ll always pull through
That’s when I made the decision
To stay in the lower divisions
Travelling from town to town
Hopping round from ground to ground

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94. Rip It Up – Chumbawamba

Too many crap programs
With too many adverts
Too much Matthew Engel bullshit
And not enough dirt
Media and programs
All dull and mundane
How to fill up space
When you’ve nothing left to say
So rip it up and start it again!
Rip it up and start it again!
Oh, rip it up and start it again!
Rip it up and start it again!
Fingerpost! Terrace Talk! Wise Men Say!
Elmsie Ender! The Absolute Game!
Not The View! Off The Ball! I could go on and on
But I’ve just bought the latest When Sunday Comes
Kick up the R’s! Northern Light! City Gent!
Voice Of The Valley! The Crooked Spirite!
Eagle Eye! And The Pie! I could go on and on
But I’ve just bought the latest When Saturday Comes

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95. Tubby Barlow – Chumbawamba

Posed like swallows before a dive
Five lanes, and on the left hand side
Stands Tubby Barlow wet with fear
Not quite sure what he’s doing there
On your marks, get set, and they’re in
Tubby’s consumed by the urge to win
Four are greased lightning, one is lard
But Tubby’s determined not to be left behind
Ten years of being pushed around flash before his eyes
Alone in the schoolyard eating his pride
In third place as they reach the turn
His arms ache and his chest burns
Kids are cheering from the balcony
Tubby’s oblivious, all he can see
Is that this is the moment to change his life
By collecting a trophy on the other side
Past Steven Clough and Kenny Grey
“Mum, mum, I’m winning the race!”
He opens his mouth and water floods in
He’s coughing, choking, panicking
Down once, down twice, ’till someone screams
“Sir, Tubby Barlow’s drowning!”
But Baz Wilson’s already in
Got his intermediate in life saving
The captain of the football team
Idol of every young girl’s dream
Drags Tubby towards the rope
But Tubby’s confused and grips his throat
As both boys begin to skin
“Sir, Baz Wilson’s drowning!”
Tubby opens his eyes for one last time
Sees Baz flailing at his side
Like Jesus after the resurrection
Sees himself as Baz’s salvation
Grabs Baz, heads for the side
“Chariots of Fire” playing in his mind
Meanwhile Steven Clough gets first position
But they’re all watching Tubby save Baz Wilson
Now Tubby lays like a whale on the shore
Gasping and spewing like a real hero
Like a real hero!

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96. The Incompatibility of Sport and Cosmic Consciousness – Chumbawamba

When I play cricket
I’m the longest at the wicket
I can jump and swim
And I live in the gym
But I can’t come to terms
With my existence as part of the universe
I gaze at the sky
I think how? When? And why?
I go to the lavatory
In tune with astrology
Well I get really confused
With the complicated scoring system
Used in tennis
I get around in canoes
Racing cars, balloons
I drink squash, eat Polo
Mints, climb mountains solo
But I can’t get my head
‘Round that Salvador Dali
Weirdo stuff
I really feel fine
With the planets in line
I see the future in hands
And I live off the land
But I can’t see Frank Bruno
Asking me which star sign
I think he is
Whether you are physically
Or mentally inclined
Imagine what the fun could be
If both could be combined
I know I’m speaking as a weakling
With a cosmic kind of mind
But I can feel in sport emotions
Of a unifying kind
So do whatever you like to do
And whether you win or not
Make sure the game was fairly played
And try to smile a lot
Because whatever you do should be good for you
Make the most of what you’ve got
‘Cause Whatever you do should be good for you
Make the most of what you’ve got

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97. It’s a Man’s Game – Chumbawamba

All through the game he shouts at his mates
Talking, talking, talking, never shuts his face
Into the pub for a sporting discussion
He always tries to dominate the conversation
At home there’s more serious things to discuss
His partner tries to prompt him, “Let’s talk about us”
He’s silent now, he has nothing to say
The ball’s in his court, but he don’t know how to play

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98. Shot – Chumbawamba

All gathered ’round the 18th tee
With pringle and tartan and shooting sticks
Binoculars, poised, ready to use
Watching, waiting, there it goes!
Great shot!
Great shot!
What a shot!
Great shot!
The aspiring middle classes
They want to shake the golfer’s hand
Great shot!
Great shot!
What a shot!
Great shot!
But the golfer is busy watching
As his ball lands in the sand

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88. Hurling and Imperialism – Chumbawamba

Hurling, the national sport of Ireland
Was banned in 1366
As part of an Anglo-Norman attempt
To crush all Gaelic resistance
It failed
Over six hundred years of British repression
Has never stopped the people from fighting back
They still play hurling and as you’d expect
The Brits still defend as the Irish attack

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