Cab City Combo: Cabbie Road Pt. 1
An old cowpoke went riding out One dark and windy day, He had a tickle in his throat That wouldn't go away, And then he started sniffling His eyes were tearing too His head was like to burst apart It was so full of goo. He'd popped the echinacea And he'd gargled with the salt His buddies at the bunkhouse Acted like it was his fault A bolt of fear shot through him as He knew what this must mean, For he felt the riders comin' hard And he knew that they were green Drippee-yi-ya, drippee-yi-yo, Ghost riders up the nose. The ghostly riders keeping herd On steers all made of mulch They had to get their mucus doggies Down his nasal gulch To meet the phlegm that's drivin' north From deep within his lung And as they pass they'll leave their mark Like hoofprints on his tongue His crumpled tissue tumbleweeds Went rolling down the street Then he remembered words he'd heard From ole Post-nasal Pete: "You starve a cold now bucko, But a fever you should feed, Get rest, drink plenty of fluids, Or you'll have a snot stampede."
Look there in your rear-view mirror Trying to make you feel inferior Is it mini-bus or hippopotamus A surrealistic design They sit high with windows tinted Gleaming chrome at which you squinted Tires that by their size seem to jeopardise Both your safety and mine SUVs, they S-U-C-K SUVs, they S-U-C-K At a frightening clip When their tires strip Watch as they swerve and tip In the Showroom, big and Glossy On the Road, those pigs are Bossy With their heavy load, think they own the road Think that they are The One They were made for rougher terrain In the city they're a huge pain And their drivers all feel so powerful As they give it the gun They're all owned by new-aged yuppies Baby bankers, X-Game puppies And they drive around, screwing up our town Much too wide for the street Let's outlaw them with a referendum It'd be easy, who'd defend them? We'd take back the roads from those SU Toads Wouldn't that be a treat? Now, the Sports Utility vehicle is fine in it's proper setting, but what are these oversized plushy hummer wannabees doing on the streets of New York City? Is Fifth Avenue a steep grade? Need your kayak when you're going to Central Park? Why remind people of cars from puppet animation shows? Why cross the line between vehicular and testicular? Just buy a station wagon. When you're cut off once too often By those four-wheel-driving coffins With their sporty names, and their bogus claims You will know the drill Find a SUV and tail it At a red light, go and nail it They'll call you a jerk, they'll need bodywork You will just have the thrill
My cabbie is a madman A lunatic who drives a car My cabbie is a madman Has no idea of where we are He seemed alright to me at first How could I know I'd meet the worst His cab was nice and fairly clean Then we drove off in his death machine My cabbie is a madman I'm sorry that we ever talked My cabbie is a madman I'm wishing now that I had walked He's hard to understand at best Discussing why he feels depressed Deodorizers make me gag He wipes the window with an old rag My cabbie is a madman He hits a bump, I lose some coin My cabbie is a madman My knee is smashed into my groin He stopped to yell at another hack I tried to shrink down in the back He drove his car just like Ben-Hur The streets went flashing by in a blur My cabbie is a madman I'm forced to do the pothole dance My cabbie is a madman His last name is all consonants My cabbie is a madman He's cursing in his native tongue My cabbie is a madman He's coughing like he's lost a lung My cabbie is a madman He's swerving, veering, stopping cold My cabbie is a madman The white ones, 70 years old My cabbie is a madman If he's too fast, he's just insane My cabbie is a madman But if he's slow, I'll call him lame
Moanday's child is moaning low Tombsday's child is soon to go Winceday's child will shy away Thugsday's child is mean today Fraudday's child will run a scam Satyrday's, too soon a man Sinday's child profanes the word As all the days give you the bird
I have a problem It concerns the way my thinking works I'm musically suggestible It's just one of my many quirks I hear a note or two, and that song's in my head It just takes a phrase And I hum for days I can't clear my mind My head's full of song And before long I start to unwind I usually can track down The source of what I'm humming But every now and then There's one I don't see coming I've found there's one song that just lives inside my mind Hey Bungalow Bill What did you kill It plays in my head When there's no song to fill There's Bungalow Bill And I wish I were dead It's quite a pleasant song I'm not complaining any But why does this one song Reside instead of many Why not some hardcore rock or classical refrain Hey Bungalow Bill Until I feel ill And I start to twitch Then what can I do But let it play through Now ain't that a bitch Since I can't get my mind To stop from humming Bungalow I'll try the next best thing And set my sights somewhat below I'll just get all of you to hum along with me Hey Bungalow Bill What did you kill Come sing it with me And, once we are through You'll be miserable too And I'll have company
So we got this email from a record label From a small record company located in Messina, Italy They said they liked our style and they sent along a song And asked if we would learn it and play it and send it back to them And then they would put it onto their new compilation CD And we'd be pop stars in Italy So guess what we did - I think you can guess She sings of love - or she sings of lunch But it's italian - authentic italian They'll love it in Italy - they'll cheer it in Roma Not that I understand a single word It's an odd experience really, doing this foreign song Me, I blame the internet for getting us out to Italy Do these italians even understand that what we're doing here is novelty music? I mean, humor is extremely culture-specific I've been thinking, maybe they think we're some famous band Is the word "combo" italian for "pearl jam"? Aren't computers wonderful? So here we go - with the italian again Vic Damone take note - it's all very continental Next we'll try oriental - or maybe esperanto As long as its on a CD - basically, we'll do anything Look, we'll do disco - or christian rock So give us a call - ciao for now
I'm a little teapot short and stout Here is my handle here is my spout When I get all steamed up then I shout Tip me over and pour me out Are you a Metalhead or a serious Rock & Roller with a family of your own? Have you had your fill of Barney, and those insipid songs that every child is taught to sing? What chance does your little rock god have to learn the songs that have ruled an entire planet? Haven't you wished you could listen to all your favorite songs with your child now, before they're all grown up? WELL NOW YOU CAN! The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout Down came the rain and washed the spider out Out came the sun and dried up all the rain And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again That's right! Rubin Brothers Audio is proud to present METAL JUNIOR! The world's best loved children's songs sung to some of the baddest music from the world's meanest metal bands! You'll get music from AC/DC, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, Danzig, Def Leppard, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Metallica, Rotgutter, Slade, Tesla, Percy Faith, Whitesnake and of course Led Zeppelin! Ee I ee I oh! Old MacDonald had a farm, And on his farm he had some chicks, Ee i ee i oh! With a cluck-cluck here, And a cluck-cluck there Here a cluck, there a cluck, Everywhere a cluck-cluck-cluck All lyrics are guaranteed safe and child-friendly, and all music is guaranteed to KICK BUTT! This is a children's album that you can play for your friends! Your youngster will rock on 'til naptime with METAL JUNIOR! 'Round and 'round the mulberry bush The monkey chased the weasel, The monkey thought 'twas all in fun Pop! Goes the weasel. And if you order today. We'll include our children's collection of Southern Rock. That's right, the south will rise again and get ready for pre-school with SOUTHERN ROCK JUNIOR! Lord, Mary had a rambling lamb Had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go You'll get Lynrd Skynrd doing Ring Around the Rosie, the Marshall Tucker Band On Top of Old Smokie, and Black Oak Arkansas with A Tisket A Tasket. But that's not all. We'll even send you our new collection PUNK JUNIOR! The songs that cheesed off our parents with lyrics that your five-year old can sing for grandma. John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, his name is my name, too! Whenever we go out, the people always shout There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! So remember, that's METAL JUNIOR, SOUTHERN ROCK JUNIOR and PUNK JUNIOR! And you can rock the treehouse! Available at all finer outlet stores.
Cab City Combo (cabcitycombo AT nyc.rr.com)