альбом Shokhead peter



the story of cruel frederick

This is cruel Frederick, see!
A horrid wicked boy was he;
He caught the flies, the poor little things,
And tore off all their tiny wings,
He threw the kittens down the stairs,
He broke all the chairs;
And Oh! far worse than all beside,
He beat his Mary, till she cried.

The trough was full, a dog called Tray
Went out to drink one sultry day;
Well, he had scarcely wet his lip,
When cruel Fred snatched up a whip.
He whipped poor Tray till he was sore,
And then he whipped him more and more
At this, poor Tray grew very red.
And he bit Fred till he bled!

Well, then you should've been by,
To see how Fred did scream and cry!
He had to go to bed;
His leg was very sore and red!
The Doctor came and shook his head.
Fred, Fred, Fred he was dead!




Bad Blood + Blasphemy



start a fire

I like burning houses down, and factories as well.
I like burning anything, it's the truth I tell.
Libraries and museums, both of them have fell,
I like burning things, burning things is swell.

I would like to start it as a fashion trend,
Amongst the young people, then the world might end.
Wouldn't it be fun, to ring the funeral bell,
On our civilization, and watch it burn in Hell.

Start a fire, start a fire, start a fire today.
Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it all away.

Fire! Fire!

In the summer I like to go to the country side,
Where I burn a forest down, I watch it burn with pride.
Isn't nature wonderful, it makes things so dry,
Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it, burn the country side.

Start a fire, start a fire, start a fire today
Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it all away.

Fire! Fire!

It makes me feel so sad to see young people dance,
They could burn the discotheque down, they've got every chance.
Then they'd get themselves into the news,
Burning things, burning things can make you famous too.

Start a fire, start a fire, start a fire today
Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it all away.

Fire! Fire!

Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it all away.



salvation

And the band play for salvation
The Hackney army tune
And a cripple in a wheel chair
He plays the silver spoons

Well, Jesus is their saviour
They fight the good fight
The drummer who plays with them
He goes home and beats his wife

They're marching down to Soho
wake nocturnal types
And the sinners all around them
They try to show the light

Well, Jesus is their saviour
They fight the good fight
The drummer who plays with them
He goes home and beats his wife

Junkies are withdrawing
They're crouching down in pain
And Jesus ain't the saviour
Just a barrel when they see it again

Jesus ain't their saviour
They won't fight the good fight
They'll just throw away
They'll just throw away
They'll just throw away their lives



swing eh high

The Gigolo, the Gigolo is charging twice the price
To the priest in holy orders who lives a life of vice
He pleads for mercy, God says no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

The old lady's savings time do erode
She can't pay for the heating, off the heating goes
She pleads for mercy, God says no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

The body snatcher's got no bodies to sell
It leads him, it leads him to a life of hell
He pleads for mercy, God says no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

Well, the Gigolo dies at the age of 43
Of a muscle wasting disease
Pleads for mercy, God says no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

And the body snatcher dies at an early age
And the old lady's pneumonia did rage
Pleaded for mercy, God said no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

And the priest died of syphilis
He died in pain
He went to God, he tried to explain
He pleaded for mercy, God said no
Swing 'em high, swing 'em low

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