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What Song Are You Listening To Right Now?


Xann

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One can always count on Gilbert & Sullivan for a rousing finale, full of words and music, and signifying absolutely nothing.

That I missed her depressed her

Young sister named Esther

This mister to pester she tried

Now a pestering sister's

A festering blister

You'd best resist her, say I

The mister resisted, the sister persisted,

I kissed her, all loyalty slipped

When she said I could have her

Her sister's cadaver

Must surely have turned in its crypt

Yes, yes, yes!

For I love she and she loves me

Enraptured are the both of we

Yes I love she and she loves I

And will through all eternit-eye

See what I mean?

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Some more Tom Lehrer, this time The Irish Ballad

About a maid I'll sing a song,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin.

About a maid I'll sing a song

Who didn't have her family long.

Not only did she do them wrong,

She did ev'ryone of them in, them in,

She did ev'ryone of them in.

One morning in a fit of pique,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin.

One morning in a fit of pique,

She drowned her father in the creek.

The water tasted bad for a week

And we had to make do with gin, with gin,

We had to make do with gin.

Her mother she could never stand,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin.

Her mother she could never stand,

And so a cyanide soup she planned.

The mother died with a spoon in her hand

And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,

Her face in a hideous grin.

She set her sister's hair on fire,

A-rickety-tickety-tin.

She set her sister's hair on fire,

And as the smoke and flame rose higher,

Danced around the funeral pyre,

Playing a violin, -olin,

Playing a violin.

She weighted her brother down with stones,

A-rickety-tickety-tin,

She weighted her brother down with stones

And sent him off to Davy Jones.

All they ever found were some bones,

And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,

Occasional pieces of skin.

One day when she had nothing to do,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin.

One day when she had nothing to do,

She cut her baby brother in two,

And served him up as an Irish stew,

And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,

Invited the neighbors in.

And when at last the police came by,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin,

And when at last the police came by,

Her little prank she did not deny.

To do so she would have had to lie,

And lying she knew was a sin, a sin,

Lying she knew was a sin.

My tragic tale I won't prolong,

Sing rickety-tickety-tin.

My tragic tale I won't prolong,

And if you do not enjoy my song,

You've yourselves to blame if it's too long:

You should never have let me begin, begin,

You should never have let me begin.

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Not so much a song / track but an insrumental album

Trippy Notes for Bass - Doug Wimbish (plus remixes) new version of the former sugarhill gang member's album with a few remixes added. (oh yeah he's in living colour as well but lets not get into that)

Doug Wimbish Wiki Entry Read it and you'll realise its not a case of Who? but a case of - thats an impressive list of collaborations........

Anyone into instrumental / Ambient / Dubby / soundscape type suff should check it out

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