MONTY PYTHON'S MODRZEW

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     AND NOW...
     MONTY PYTHON
     SINGS

Monty Python's World of Music

MONTY PYTHON LIVE AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL

"SIT ON MY FACE"

Composer: Harry Parr Davies
Author: Eric Idle
Arranger: John Du Prez
Singers: John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones

Sit on my face and tell me that you love me.
I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too.

I love to hear you oralise
When I'm between your thighs.

You blow me away!

Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you.
I'll sit on your face, and then I'll love you truly.

Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine
If we sit on our faces in all sorts of places and play
Till we're blown away!

"NEVER BE RUDE TO AN ARAB"

Composer: Terry Jones
Author: Terry Jones
Singer: Terry Jones

Never be rude to an Arab,

An Isreali,

or Saudi,

or Jew.

Never be rude to an Irishman,

No matter what you do.

Never poke fun at a Nigger,

A Spic,

or a Wop,

or Kraut.

And never poke fun at...

(BOOM!)

Never be rude to a polack...(BOOM!)

"BRUCES' PHILOSOPHERS SONG"

Composer: Eric Idle
Author: Eric Idle
Singer: Eric Idle

Immanuel Kant
was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable,

Heidegger, Heidegger
was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table,

David Hume
could out-consume
Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel.

And Wittgenstein
was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.

There's nothing Nietzche
couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist,
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.

John Stuart Mill,
of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill,

Plato, they say,
could stick it away,
Half a crate of whiskey every day.

Aristotle, Aristotle
was a bugger
for the bottle,
Hobbes was fond of his dram,

And René Descartes
was a drunken fart
"I drink, therefore I am."

Yes, Socrates, himself,
is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he's pissed.

"I'M THE URBAN SPACEMAN"

Author: Neil Innes
Composer: Neil Innes
Singer: Neil Innes
Dance: Carol Cleveland

I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I've got speed,
I've got everything I need.
I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I could fly,
I'm a supersonic guy
I don't need pleasure, I don't feel pain,
If you were to knock me down, I'd just get up again
I'm the urban spaceman, baby, I'm making out,
I'm all about.

I wake up every morning with a smile upon my face
My natural exuberance spills out all over the place
I'm the urban spaceman, I'm intelligent and clean,
Know what I mean?

I'm the urban spaceman, as a lover second to none,
It's a lot of fun
I never let my friends down, I've never made a boob
I'm a glossy magazine, an advert on the tube
I'm the urban spaceman, baby, here comes the twist
I don't exist.

"I'VE GOT TWO LEGS"

Composer: Terry Gilliam
Author: Terry Gilliam
Singer: Terry Gilliam

Oh,

I got two legs from my waist to the ground,

and

When I move 'em they walk around,

and

When I lift 'em they climb the stairs,

and

When I shave 'em they ain't got hairs!

(BANG!)

"THE IDIOT SONG"
(A Song for the Sensitive)

Author: Neil Innes
Composer: Neil Innes
Singer: Neil Innes

How sweet to be an Idiot,
As harmless as a cloud,
Too small to hide the sun,
Almost poking fun
At the warm but insecure, untidy crowd.
How sweet to be an idiot,
And dip my brain in joy,
Children laughing at my back,
With no fear of attack,
As much retaliation as a toy.
How sweet to be an idiot. How sweet.

I tiptoed down the street,
Smiled at everyone I meet,
But suddently a scream
Smashes through my dream.
Fee fie foe fum.
I smell the blood of an asylum.

(Blood of an asylum. But mother, I play so beautifully. Listen. Ha ha.)

Fie fye foe fum.
I smell the blood of the asylum.
Hey you. You're such a pennant.
You got as much brain as a dead ant,
As much imagination as a carvan sign,

But I still love you. Still love you.
Oooh, how sweet to be an idiot.
How sweet. How sweet. How sweet.

"LUMBERJACK SONG"

Composers: Terry Jones, Michael Palin & Fred Tomlinson
Authors: Terry Jones & Michael Palin
Arranger: Fred Tomlinson
Lumberjack: Eric Idle
Mounties: Michael Palin, John Cleese, Terry Jones, Terry Gilliam & Graham Chapman

LUMBERJACK:
I never wanted to be in such a shambledy sketch.
I always wanted to be... a lumberjack!
Leaping from tree to tree...
as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia!
The larch... the redwood... the mighty sequioa...
with my best girl by my side!
The giant deadwood, the spruce...
the little Californian root tree!
We'd sing, sing, sing!

I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay.
I sleep all night. I work all day.

MOUNTIES:
He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

LUMBERJACK:
I cut down trees. I eat my lunch.
I go to the lavatory.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.

MOUNTIES:
He cuts down trees. He eats his lunch.
He goes to the lavatory.
On Wednesdays he goes shopping
And has buttered scones for tea.

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

LUMBERJACK:
I cut down trees. I skip and jump.
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing
And hang around in bars.

MOUNTIES:
He cuts down trees. He skips and jumps.
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around in bars?!

He's a lumberjack, and he's okay.
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

LUMBERJACK:
I cut down trees. I wear high heels,
Suspendies, and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie,
Just like my dear Papa.

LUMBERJACK:
He cuts down trees.
He wears high heels,
Suspendies, and a bra?!
JOHN CLEESE:
What kind of god damn fairy cunny fairy faggot...

LUMBERJACK and MOUNTIES:
I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK,
I sleep all night and I work all day.
I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK!

BACK TO THE HOLLYWOOD!

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETLY DIFFERENT!

Design: Ireneusz Siwek