1. _ Carolina Hard-core Ecstasy
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
I could'a swore her hair was made of rayon
She wore a milton-bradley crayon
But she was something i could lay on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
She put a doobie brothers tape on
(lalalalalaa la)
I had a roger daltrey cape on
(a roger daltrey cape on)
There was a bed i dumped her shape on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
Somewhat later on, i woke up and she was gone
There was dew out on the lawn
In the sunrise
Later she came back, with a rumpled paper sack
Which she told me would contain
A surprize
She stuck her hand right in and to the bottom
Said she knew i'd be surprized she got 'em
Take a charleston pimp! to spot 'em
Then she gave a pair of shoes to me
Plastic leather fourteen triple d
I said i wonder what's the shoes for
She told me "don't you worry no more"
And got right down there on the tile floor
"now darling stomp all over me"
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
Is this something new?
Having people stomp on you?
Is it what i need to do for your pleasure?
(pleasure is all i need)
What is this a quiz?
Don't you worry what it is.
It is merely just a moment i can treasure
By ten o'clock her arms and legs were rendered
She couldn't talk cuz' her mouth had been extendered
It looked to me as though she had been blendered
What was this abject misery?
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
[guitar solo]
What was this abject misery?
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
What was this abject misery?
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
It might seem strange to herb and dee
Carolina hard-core ecstasy
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2. _ Advance Romance
no more credit
From liquor store
Suit is all dirty, boy
Shoes is all wore
Tired and lonely, my
Heart is all sore
Advance romance
I can't stand it no more
Told me she loved me
I believed what she said
Took me for a sucker, boy
All corn-fed
Next thing i knew
She had a bolt on the door
Advance romance
I can't use it no more
She took george's watch
Like they always do
(it was a timex, too!)
No more money, boy
I shoulda knew
'you know i told ya'
'i know you told me'
'ya didn't listen to me'
'but i couldn't listen to ya!'
'told ya 'bout the anchovies... george duke!'
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
Advance romance
People i am through!
Potato-head bobby
Was a friend of mine
Open three of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open four of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open five of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open six of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Said she might be a devil
But she sure was fine
Advance romance
He wanna try it one time
Later that night
He drop on by
Told her all he wanna do
Was step up and say "hi"
Half an hour later
She had frenched his fry
Advance romance
Bobby, say good-bye
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3. _ 200 Years Old
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Chester thompson (drums)
I was sittin' in a breakfast room in allentown, pennsylvania, six o'clock in the morning, got up to early, it was a terrible mistake... sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange
About as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened cornflakes, and i said to myself: "this is the life!"...
She's 200 years old,
So mean, she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache
She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
Just like she had true religion.. boy!
She's two hundred years old
Hoy!, hoy!, in 200 years,
Half of this, none of that,
One.. fifty.. oh squattin',
Yeah-ah, ain't she got
Oohhh, she got religion now, boy.
Oohhhh, ?? ?? ??
Oohhhh, she's just mean,
She just, she just can't grow no lips.
Squat.. down, so mean she can't grow no lips.
200 years old, so mean she can't grow no lips.
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4. _ Man With The Woman Head
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
Are you with me on this people?
The man with the woman head
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
A mixture of oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter,
Forming a hard, beetle-like triangular chin much like a praying mantis.
Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile.
The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand.
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes,
Map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint.
He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth,
Stained from too much opium, chipped from the years.
The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers.
A piece of cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue
And knotted into thin white strings.
Charcoal grey eisenhower jacket zipped into a load(?) of green ascot.
A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.
Four slender bones with rings and nails
Endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder.
I could just make out ace as he carried the tray and mouthed,
"you cheap son of a bitch"
As a straw fell out of a coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.
So this was a drive-in restaurant in hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in hollywood.
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5. _ Cucamonga
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Chester thompson (drums)
Out in cucamonga
Many years ago
Near a holy roller church
There was once a place
Where me and a couple of friends
Began practicing for the time
We might go on tv
And as fate would have it
Later on we got a chance to play.
All we ever really knew:
That it was crazy (nanook, no-no)
To be doin' it any other way
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6. _ Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
Why, when i was knee-high to a grasshopper,
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin.
And that called that 'tobacco juice'.
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx.
My entire room absorbed every echo..
The music was.. thud like. the music was.. thud like.
I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug.
Opaque melodies that would bug most people.
Music from the other side of the fence.
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads.
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt.
With same color shadows, and seamed(?) knobbed knees, and what-nots.
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd.
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway,
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street.
Up a wrought iron fire escape.
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with
Dark, hard, dark rubber wheels.
Roll, skreek! roll, skreek! roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
Sam was a basket case!
A hardened dark ivory clip held.. saleable everyday pencils.
I wish i had a pair 'o bongos!
Bongo fury! bongo fury!
Oowwwww! bongo fury!
(boogie!)
Bongo fury! bongo fury!
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7. _ Muffin Man
muffin man
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
The muffin man is seated at the table in the laboratory of the utility muffin
Research kitchen... reaching for an oversized chrome spoon he gathers an
Intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants and brushing his scapular aside
Procceds to dump these inside of his shirt...
He turns to us and speaks:
"some people like cupcakes better. i for one care less for them!"
Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot of a fully charged icing
Anointment utensil he poots forths a quarter-ounce green rosette (oh ah yuk
Yuk... let's try that again...!) he poots forth a quarter-ounce green rosette
Near the summit of a dense but radiant muffin of his own design.
Later he says:
"some people... some people like cupcakes exclusively, while myself, i say
There is naught nor ought there be nothing so exalted on the face of god's grey
Earth as that prince of foods... the muffin!"
Girl you thought he was a man
But he was a muffin
He hung around till you found
That he didn't know nuthin'
Girl you thought he was a man
But he only was a-puffin'
No cries is heard in the night
As a result of him stuffin'
Bruce fowler on trombone, napoleon murphy brock on tenor sax, and lead vocals,
Terry bozzio on drums, tom fowler on bass, denny walley on slide, george duke
On keyboards, captain beefheart on vocals, and soprano sax, and madness. thank
You very much for coming to the concert tonight. hope you enjoyed it. goodnight
Austin, texas, where ever you are.
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8. _ Debra Kadabra
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
Debra kadabra, say she's a witch,
Shit-ass charlotte, aint that a bitch?
Debra kadabra, haw that's rich.
June, a rancho granny,
Shook her wrinkled fanny
Shoes are too tight and pointed
Ankles sorta puffin' out
Cause me to shout:
Oh debra algebra ebneezra kadabra
Witch goddess, witch goddess of lankershim boulevard.
Cover my entire bodice, with avon cologna.
And drive me to some relative's house, in east l.a. (foogadah! ?)
(just till my skin clears up)
Turn it to channel thirteen,
And maybe watch the rubber tongue, when it comes out
From the puffed, and flanulent mexican rubbergoods mask.
Next time they show the brnokka
Make me buy the flosser.
Make me grow brainiac fingers.
But with more hair!
(but with more hair)
Make me kiss your turquoise jewelry.
Emboss me.
Rub the hot front part of my head,
With rented unguents
Give me bas relief!
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
If she casts a spell my way,
I promise to go under it.
If she casts a spell my way,
I promise to go under it.
Oh, hear this!
Learn the pachuco hop, and let me twirl you!
Learn the pachuco hop, and let me twirl you!
Oh debra fauntleroy magnesium kadabra! take me with you!
Don't you want any a these?
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9. _ Poofter's Froth Wyoming Plans Ahead
Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Captain beefheart (harp, vocals)
George duke (keyboards, vocals)
Napoleon murphy brock (saxophone, vocals)
Bruce fowler (trombone)
Tom fowler (bass)
Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Terry bozzio (drums)
While we're at it, we have a sort of a cowboy song we'd like to do for ya. this is a song that deals with the rapidly approaching 200th birthday of the united states of america, ladies and gentl
This is a song that warns you in advance, that next year, everybody is gonna try and sell you things that maybe you shouldn't ought to buy, and not only that, they've been planning it for years
Name of this song is (pardon me), poofters froth, wyoming, plans ahead.
Poofters froth, wyoming,
March eleven sixty-seven
Take a letter, miss abetter
As our pigeons will be homin'.
To our jobbers in dakota
And to merwyn, minnesota
This is merely just a note about
Performance to our quota
Well, we've all come out to show dem,
And the elks have helped us
Load 'em
Little packets full of jackets
Little rackets, little rackets
Little poofter-cloth appointments
Little pofter's froth anointments
Little hoods, little goods
Little doo-dads from the woods
The entire stock is shipping
Oh our shod is hardly slipping
To the markets of the world
Our wrinkled pennants are unfurled!
T-shirt racks, rubber snacks,
Poster rolls with matching tacks
Yes, a special beer for sports
(and paper cups that hold two quarts)
Everything a nation needs
For making hoopla while it feeds
The trash compactors, small reactors,
Mowers, blowers, throwers & the glowers:
This is buy-cent-any-all salute(hyulk!)
Two hundred years have gone ka-poot!
Ah but we have been astute!
Signed: anon. - wyo. galoot!
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