"Bungle In The Jungle"

Walking through forests of palm tree apartments ---
scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents
down by the waterhole --- drunk every Friday ---
eating their nuts --- saving their raisins for Sunday.
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows ---
they're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.

Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

Just say a word and the boys will be right there:
with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.
I'll write on your tombstone, ``I thank you for dinner.''

This game that we animals play is a winner.

Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

The rivers are full of crocodile nasties
and He who made kittens put snakes in the grass.
He's a lover of life but a player of pawns ---
yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn
to light up His Jungle
as play is resumed.
The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.

"Only Solitaire"

Brain-storming habit-forming battle-warning weary
winsome actor spewing spineless chilling lines ---
the critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
and really not an awful lot of fun.
Well who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D.,
and he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Court-jesting, never-resting --- he must be very cunning
to assume an air of dignity
and bless us all with his oratory prowess,
his lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air.
And every night his act's the same
and so it must be all a game of chess he's playing ---
``But you're wrong, Steve: you see, it's only solitaire.''

"The Third Hoorah"

Hoorah!

WarChild, dance the days and nights away ---
sweet child, how do you do today?
When your back's to the wall,
and your luck is your all,
then side with whoever you may.
Seek that which within lies waiting to begin
the fight of your life that is everyday.
Dance with the WarChild --- Hoorah.

WarChild, dance the days and nights away ---
sweet child, how do you do today?
In the heart of your heart, there's the tiniest part
of an urge to live to the death ---
with a sword on your hip and a cry on your lips

Dance with the WarChild --- Hoorah.

WarChild, dance the days and nights away ---
sweet child, how do you do today?

"Two Fingers"

I'll see you at the Weighing-In,
when your life's sum-total's made
and you set your wealth in Godly deeds
against the sins you've laid.
And you place your final burden
on your hard-pressed next of kin:
Send the chamber-pot back down the line
to be filled up again.

And the hard-headed miracle worker
who bathes his hands in blood,
Will welcome you to the final nod ---
and cover you with mud.
And he'll say, ``You really should make the deal,''
as he offers round the hat.
``You'd better lick two fingers clean ---
He'll thank you all for that.''
As you slip on the greasy platform,
and you land upon your back,
You make a wish and you wipe your nose upon the railway track.
While the high-strung locomotive,
with furnace burning bright,
Lumbers on --- you wave goodbye ---

and the sparks fade into night.

And as you join the Good Ship Earth,
and you mingle with the dust ---
you'd better leave your underpants
with someone you can trust.
And when the Old Man with the telescope
cuts the final strand ---
you'd better lick two fingers clean,
before you shake his hand.

"Paradise Steakhouse"

I'd like to take you to the edge of every morning
on a magic eiderdown to a window chair.
In the Paradise Steakhouse where there's a cup of silver coffee,
steaming chrome reflections from the mist in your hair.

Try not to watch me (Try not to watch me)
Just call me after darkfall (Call me after darkfall)
I'll bring a whip to sow, my seed on your land.
In the Paradise Steakhouse there's a cup of silver coffee

A sheath of steel so you may hold my sword in your hand
I'll cut you, divide you into tender pieces

No wings to fly away upon my dear.

In the Paradise Steakhouse on a plate upon a table
I will carve your name with care to last the years.

I'd like to eat you (I'd like to eat you)
All fire will consume you (Fire will consume you)
Roast on the spit of love on this arrow true.
In the Paradise Steakhouse I'll taste every finger
Baking in the ashes 'til the flames rise anew

I'd like to take you to the edge of every morning
On a magic eiderdown to a window chair.
In the Paradise Steakhouse where there's a cup of silver coffee,
steaming chrome reflections from the mist in your hair.

"SeaLion 2"

Would you like to see my lion, my friend Cecil is damp and smooth
A damp smooth sea lion, yes, Cecil is a sea lion.
(Cecil is a sea lion)
(Cecil is a sea lion)
(Cecil is a sea lion)

Cecil is a clever sea lion, Cecil sometimes swims
And often sits (And balances multicolored striped balls?)
Yes, balances multicolored striped balls, Clever Cecil
(Cecil is a sea lion) (Cecil is a sea lion)
(Cecil is a sea lion) (Cecil is a sea lion)
(Cecil is a sea lion) (Cecil is a sea lion)

Cecil the sea lion is serene, he doesn't wear spectacles or a scarf
(No central heating or cement) Well, the whole ocean is Cecil's home
(Cecil is a sea lion) (Cecil is a sea lion)
(Cecil is a sea lion) (Cecil is a sea lion)