Climate Change Denier song

We’ve just made a video of the song “Middle” from our album . It was filmed in a single shot at the Cockpit Theatre. Enjoy and share!

Music by Pig With The Face Of A Boy
Written and performed by Donald Newholm and Dan Woods
With Charlie Pyne on double bass Gemma Gayner on violin Robin Harris on trumpet, and Malcolm Gayner on drums
Cast: Alison Bennett, Tom Borowiecki, Korein Brown, George Collie, Paul Critoph, Edward Day, Susanna Herbert, Kristoffer Huball, Nayomie Karen, Maria Swisher, Tricity Vogue
Thanks to Dave Wybrow and The Cockpit, and Luther Blissett for instruments
Gaffer Ben Manwaring
Production assistant Nicola Lincé
Puppet costumes by Lucy Newholm
Staged by Nic Watson
Photographed by Tim Jordan
Directed and not edited by Chris Lincé (http://www.chrislince.com)

Lyrics:

No he don’t have time for no scientists
He says they don’t agree
Likes to spend his time on the internet
Shows him what he wants to see
He will take you out in his Jaguar
He’s a BA frequent flyer
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.

He talks about solar cycles
Says they’ll never make him pay
He says an Exon-funded study says
That everything’s okay
He loves to show you the emails
See how the liberals conspire
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.

He says he can’t stand GATSOs
The economy needs cars
Gets his meat from farms in the Amazon
His opinions from Mars
He is right behind global warming
If our summers would be drier
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.

His house is high on a hillside
He heats his patio
Says if the earth is getting hotter, yeah
Then whats with all the snow
Tries to speak like Jeremy Clarkson
Thinks that he’s the new Messiah
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.

He’s not afraid of the future
When he won’t be alive
Says he’s worked so hard all his life for
The right to drink and drive
He respects you have an opinion
But tells you you’re a liar
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.
He’s a middle-class, middle-brow, middle-weight, middle-aged
Climate change denier.

Busking

We like to busk on the underground
We stand in a corner right here
But the licensing men in some office
They come and they just interfere

They’re censoring all of our lyrics
It’s such a remarkable thing
They give us some new words each morning
And here’s what they’re making us sing:

Don’t leave your bags unattended
Please let passengers get off the train before boarding
Services on the Bakerloo line are suspended
And don’t commit crime because CCTV is recording

The roof at Embankment is in an unstable condition
You are advised to seek out an alternative route
If you notice a person whose actions give you suspicion
And you think that he looks a bit foreign then please do not shoot.

They took us up into some office
And here’s the advice that they gave:
‘We need songs that enhance people’s safety
And make the commuters behave.’

Please mind the gap and the pickpockets here at this station
No flash photography, please put out your cigarette
When the weather is hot, avoid dehydration
But surfaces may become slippery when it is wet.

If you notice a chemical smell and you’re next to a man
And he’s shouting and praying to Allah and acting berserk
Remain where you are and keep as calm as you can
There’s a very good chance that his bomb doesn’t actually work.

Copyright 2008 Dan Woods – all rights reserved.

My Darling

My darling, believe me, my love for you is true
If you were to leave me, I know not what I’d do
And so tonight I thought I might let all my feelings show
And I will take you to the most romantic place I know

Come with me to the cockfight my dear, come see the fearless fowl
The bell is like beautiful music to me succeeded by shriek and howl
Come with me to the cockfight tonight, come see them bite and scratch
We’ll see which one is puny and which one is tough when they stuff them down that hatch

Take your seat for the cockfight my sweet, where severed feet sail by
Eyes are pecked out as I gaze into yours, beauty as bright as the blood on their claws
Come with me to the cockfight, my love, come see them shove and maul
When entrails are flailing you grow pale and faint, but I’ll catch you if you fall

Come with me to the cockfight, my love, gasp as the blood runs free
Don’t be surprised if it gets in your eyes and mind how you sip lest it drip in your tea
Come with me to the cockfight, you may always of this be sure
As the cock of the walk rips the breast in his grip, that I’ll be more gentle with yours

And as your eyelids flutter, their wings begin to flutter
I think I’ll have a flutter on that rooster from Calcutta
And as they screech and squawk and cluck, I do beseech thee Lady Luck
For ample fortune and the pluck to ask my lady if she’ll maybe

Come with me to the cockfight, you dish, where wishbones splinter and snap
We whistle for gristle, and when one is dead, we’re enraptured as he runs around devoid of a head
Come with me to the cockfight, oh do, dinner’s included too
As niblets of giblets are shredded and torn, they’re a romantic meal for two

Come with me to the cockfight, oh my, come for the death and gore
When we’re together the feathers will fly and I’ll kiss you as they mop up the guts on the floor
Come with me to the cockfight next week, watch as their beaks dig in
The fun will begin as their innards appear
And I’ll save you an avian organ as a souvenir.

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

The Unfortunate End of Miguel the Matador

Miguel the matador’s prowess was second to none
With a cape and a sword, so adored in the afternoon sun
Year upon year they would cheer for the star of the ring
But it meant not a thing

He felt no excitement, a searing indictment
On quite how dull it was to win
Again and again and again and again

As the rage of youth faded he jadedly jabbed at the beast
And he yearned for the hour when sourly, he would head east
To the place one entreats the girls from the streets
For unusual feats

He treated them finely with dinner and wine
Took them out to the best brasseries
A debonair chap, with a doff of his cap he could put
Pretty girls at their ease

So after politely declining their favours
It helped if the lady was large
He dressed them in leather, adorned them with horns
Braced himself and shouted Charge!

Miguel the matador met an unfortunate end
When Georgina, a greenhorn in whoring went quite round the bend
She was blind in one eye, so no depth could perceive
And Miguel was naïve

He screamed and insisted she cease and desist
But she thought it was all just pretend
Georgina’s green horn could no more be torn
From Miguel’s unfortunate end
Unfortunate end
Unfortunate end
The unfortunaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate
End.

Copyright 2008 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

The Lonely Shepherd

There’s a girl in the village called Sally
And her beauty is truly divine
But Sally, alas, has a husband
So Sally will never be mine.

But one night when her husband was sleeping
She invited me out for some fun
I still dream of that one night with Sally:
She’s the only girl I’ve ever done.

When I dream of that one night with Sally
As I’m here watching over my flock
These feelings start building inside me
I don’t know what to do with my smock.

Now my master’s at rest
And the stars have come out
I think some of you have guessed
What this song is about:

I wonder what it feels like to kiss a sheep?
I’d sit beside a young one in the mud
Would she lead my tongue inside her mouth like Sally did?
Or pull it down her throat and chew the cud?
Would she nibble at my ears at all, and pin me up against the wall
And book us in a very cheap hotel?
I wonder what it feels like to kiss a sheep?
But I mustn’t lie with beast, I’ll go to hell.

I wonder what it feels like to touch a sheep?
Would she slip a hoof inside my underwear?
Would she tell me what feels good for her like Sally did
Or look upon me blankly and go “maaaah”?
Could I fit all my hand inside, and would I leave her satisfied?
Do sheep prefer a little more vibration?
I wonder what it feels like to touch a sheep?
But to lie with beast, it is abomination.

I wonder what it feels like to lick a sheep?
Do you think that I could find her magic button?
I imagine she would smell like pecorino cheese,
Or maybe she would taste a bit like mutton.
And if my sheep is like her breed, by following where others lead
Perhaps she’d find the time to lick me too.
I wonder what it feels like to lick a sheep
And will it make her love me if I do?

I wonder what it feels like to love a sheep?
I bet it’s bloody quick and feels amazing.
Then I’d turn away and count her friends and fall asleep
It wouldn’t even interrupt her grazing.
I’ll call myself an oviphile. Of course we’ll do it sheepy style.
My cries of joy will echo through the valley.
I’ll discover what it feels like to love a sheep
And as I give my milk, I’ll shout out:
Sally!

Copyright 2008 Dan Woods – all rights reserved.

The Midwife

Babies! Lovely babies!
A new born child is a miracle
And all the other midwives will agree
It’s the most amazing sight you’ll ever see

And though they come out bloody
And they all have funny hair,
Let me tell you buddy
Why you’ll find me there:

I want to eat your placenta
You have what I want to eat
I fry it in garlic and butter
It comes out so tender and sweet.
How can there be such a flavour
In meat that’s oh so lean?
Why don’t you come round for dinner?
Maybe you’ll see what I mean.

Babies! Pretty babies!
To see a birth is incredible
And every single day it warms my heart
Each time I get to watch a new life start

But if you catch me winking
As I’m begging you to push,
Guess what I am thinking
As I’m staring at your bush:

I want to eat your placenta
Roast it with some rosemary and sage
The older the mother, the tougher the meat
But the flavour will develop with age.
If you are having a party
Throw it on the barbecue.
If you think that placenta would scare them
You can melt it away in a stew.

I want to eat your placenta!
Make a marinade with chillis and some zest
All of my meals are delicious
But teenage mothers really are the best.
Some people think that I’m crazy
But it’s worth it for the taste:
That’s why you’ll find me at nightfall
Going through the bins of human waste.

Copyright 2008 Dan Woods – all rights reserved

Howard Hughes Blues

Well it started quite innocently when I was young
And obsessed with the physics of aeroplane wings
And among other things, with the sizes of peas
Which my special fork sorts with the greatest of ease

I was raised by rich parents, I tell you they daren’t
Permit me to walk with the snails and woodlice
So that’s why kleenex boxes for shoes are so nice
If I touch something once then I wash my hands twice
If you sneeze on my shirt I’ll burn it in a trice
So don’t touch, I don’t know where you’ve been

I literally fly in the face of great danger
No fear that I’ll die; my concerns are far stranger
So when you see me hit a tree in a field
Make sure that the medical kit is well sealed
For the germs have no mercy and will never yield;
Broken bones are okay if they’re clean

Haircuts are bad, and the one I just had
Got me nicked on the ear, and the blood made me fear
That I might get infected and so I injected
Ten gallons of milk in my rear
Perhaps I’ll have my hair and nails cut this time next year

I am all too aware of the hygienic issues
And I am not scared, for I’m armed with ten tissues
One hundred milk bottles arranged round my door
They’re there to insure that the urine I store
Is sterile and healthy; I’m weird and I’m wealthy
I’ll live for a thousand years more

All food is diseased so I rarely eat dinner
No sickness in me, though lately I’m thinner
At least I have three dozen doctors on call
They tell me I’m fine but I still doubt them all
So each germ who sees will read “No Germs Here Please”
Inscribed on the sign on my wall

Don’t play with my food, cause you’ll only upset me
And dust off your coat, or your illness will get me
It’s far less contagious out west in Las Vegas
With clingfilm on pillows and sheets
Sorting green food from brown and dairies from meats

Now hark and you’ll hear of my latest collection:
I’m fetching all food chains who’ve ever been Texan
My favourite toenail is now more like a claw
It’s handy for stabbing the bugs on the floor
I take a great interest in Jane Russell’s breasts
As her nipples count 1 – 2 – 3 – 4

Preserving my health in my self imposed quarantine
Freer of dirt than I’ll warrant you’ve ever been
Ice station zebra is screened once again
My friends come to call, bringing virulent strains
of syphilis, scrofula, lurgy, consumption and gout
But there’s no way for them to get in, or for me to get out

Q – U – A – R – A – N – T – I – N – E

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

Hitler’s Favourite Song

I had a little cheeseburger, he was my only friend.
I took him to the picture house and loved him til the end.
I had a Venus flytrap on my windowsill
And he ate all the flies that came in my room.

Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
He’s my only friend in the whole wide world.
Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
Or I’d have to cut your head off with a blunt chainsaw.

I had a little doughnut, I ate him for my tea.
I put him in the microwave ad I burned my mouth on the jam.
I stole a child’s accordion and used it to do this:
But then mein father broke it and it damaged all his face.

Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
He’s my only friend in the whole wide world.
Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
Or I’d have to wipe the remnants of the ketchup on your face

Please don’t tread on my venus flytrap, he’s my only friend in the whole wide world!
He was little, and green, and he kept me safe from flies:
But then I forgot to water him, and he died and
It was very very sad

Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
He’s my only friend in the whole wide world.
How would you like it if I stole your television
And I gave it to a wizard in exchange for magic beans?

Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger,
He’s my only friend in the whole wide world.
Please don’t tread on my cheeseburger.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Oh Oh Oh No.

Copyright 1979 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

Pie

Pie, pie, oh me oh my
Always once bitten but never twice shy
Pie, pie, don’t ask me why
It’s pie, pie, pie

Pie, pie, pie in the sky
Crusts crowd the clusters of clouds rolling by
Pie, pie, flying so high
It’s pie, pie, pie, pie, pie.

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved

Churchill’s Favourite Song

Didn’t we have more gravy in the thirtes
Then Mister Hitler took it all away
He’s a rotten sort, but then we had a thought
Let’s all dress up as army men and take our gravy back again

I’d been taking kippers up to Maisie
When Auntie Beeb announced we’re off to war
Don’t you know I’d rather have a spot of how’s yer father
But I had to get me gravy back upon the English shore

Didn’t we have a laugh with Auntie Gertrude
She’s got the most stupendous bloomers in the town
When all the Krauts were shootin’, we used them for parachutin’
And they made a marvelous bag for lootin’ when we hit the ground

Didn’t we do so well to beat the Fuhrer
We bashed him on the bonce and ran away
When he gave up the fight we made a flight back home to blighty
And we all drank pints of gravy on the way
HAVE A BANANA… WITH GRAVY.

Copyright 2009 Donald Newholm – all rights reserved