|
Chords:
SOL MI7 LA7 RE LA
====O=O=O== O=========O =========== ====O====== ==========O
|-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-|
|-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-|
|-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-| |-|-|-|-|-|
LA
Chorus: Singin'
RE
Balls to your partner,
Your ass against the wall.
SOL
If you can't get laid on a Saturday night,
LA7
You'll never get laid at all.
-or-
RE
Who hae ye last nicht,
An' who hae ye noo?
SOL
The man wha' hae ye last nicht,
LA7
He canna hae ye noo.
RE
Four and twenty virgins
Come down from Inverness.
SOL RE
When the ball was over
MI7 LA
There were four and twenty less.
Chorus
There was doin' in the parlour,
There was doin' on the stones.
You couldn't hear the music
For the wheezin' and the groans.
Chorus
The undertaker, he was there,
All wrapped up in a shroud,
Swingin' from the chandalier,
And peein' on the crowd.
Chorus
The village cripple, he was there,
But he couldn't do that much.
So he lined the ladies against the wall
And did 'em with his crutch.
Chorus
Miss Molly McFearson
Was standin' way up front,
With some posies in her hand,
And a carrot up 'er cunt.
Chorus
The village postman, he was there,
Though the poor lad had the pox.
He couldn't do the lassies,
So he did the letterbox.
Chorus
The village magician, he was there,
He gave us all a laugh.
He pulled his foreskin over his head,
And vanished up his ass.
Chorus
The fruit-picker's daughter, she was there,
And always within reach.
Offerin' the men all they could eat,
And for only three pence each.
Chorus
The young lad Johnny, he was there,
Though only a lad of eight.
He couldn't find a woman there,
So he had to masterbate.
Chorus
The eunich and someone's wife
Had a little tryst.
He didn't have much that would work,
So he had to use his fist.
Chorus
First lady forward,
Second lady aft.
Third lady's finger
Up the fourth lady'd ass.
Chorus
The deaf mute lad, he was there,
And didn't have much to say.
Waitin' for the lasses to pass out,
And doin' 'em where they lay.
Chorus
The stableboy, he was there,
And couldn't do much worse.
So he went down to the stables
And did his favourite horse.
Chorus
The queen was in the kitchen
Eating bread and honey.
The king was in the chambermaid,
And she was in the money.
Chorus
The shepherdboy, he was there,
And had a secret hard to keep.
He did the ladies when he could,
But otherwise did his sheep.
Chorus
The Catholic priest was standin' around,
Watchin' them in the hall.
Finally he had all he could take,
And did the hole in the wall.
Chorus
A Fanciscan Friar was in the courtyard,
Naked in the sun.
Drinkin' the sacrifcial wine,
And doin' an ugly nun.
Chorus
The bride was in the parlour
Explaining to the groom
That the vagina, not the rectum
Is the entrance to the womb.
Chorus
The sailor was all excited,
And racing down the halls,
A-sumblin' on his pecker
And a-trippin' o'er his balls.
Chorus
The Lord of the castle was runnin' around,
Raisin' up his kilts.
Propositionin' the nearest lady,
"Lassie, quick, before it wilts."
Chorus
The pickpocket's wife, she was there,
A bonnie little thing.
Many a lad gained a disease,
But lost their favourite ring.
Chorus
The Baker's wife, she was there,
Dancing in the streets.
She obviously enjoyed her husband's bread,
But got an infection from the yeast.
Chorus
The drunkerd found the village whore,
Dressed up in her lace.
But the ups and downs made him ill,
And he threw up in her face.
Chorus
The village baker, he was there,
And looking pretty mean.
A-shoutin' that the girls were all tarts,
And a-pumpin' them full of cream.
Chorus
The village blacksmith, he was there,
With his balls made of brass.
And every time he laid a lass,
The sparks flew out her ass.
Chorus
The village harlot, she was there,
A-lyin' on the floor.
And every time she opened her legs,
The suction closed the door.
Chorus
There was doin'in the hallways,
There was doin' on the stair.
You couldn't find the carpet
For the pile of pubic hair.
Chorus
The blacksmith's wife, she was there,
A-sittin' by the fire,
Performing abortions by the hour
With a red-hot brand of wire.
Chorus
The village butcher, he was there,
A cleaver in his hand.
And every time he turned around,
He circumcised a man.
Chorus
In the middle of the ballroom
The village idiot sat,
Amusin' himself by abusing' himself,
And catching it in his hat.
|
|
