Lyrics

I hear a little voice It comes whinging in over the sea of a thousand fat faces The little voice whinges for something loud and heavy A little line of beer running down his chinny-chin Oh my god, what a fat little skin And I smell something cooking Something soft, something sweet Something completely ridiculous In the beginning was the word It come to scrape away the shell-shock And I says shake it, shake it, shake it For another five minutes And we are blowing it up like shell-shock And to this fabulous waste Come and deliver yourselves I says, come and eat up something Deliver yourselves With wet cherries on a Blind Snake Sundae And to this fabulous waste Come and deliver yourself Oh, come and leave all your food lying down in the dust And listen to the Cook-House rock I said, listen to the Cook-House rock Listen to it, listen to it, listen Listen to the Cook-House rock Listen to it, listen to it, listen Listen to the Cook-House rock I hear another little voice Same as before Except a little bit poorer and wasted Whinging for something loud By god, you're fat, boy, fat! Beer dribbling down your weak little chin I will not let you in And yes, again, I smell something cooking Something small and weak And completely ridiculous And to this fabulous waste Come and deliver yourselves I says, come and clean up something Deliver yourself With a wet cherry on a Blind Snake Sundae To this fabulous waste Come and deliver yourself I says, leave all your food lying down in the dust And listen to the Cook-House rock I says, listen to the Cook-House rock Listen to it, listen to it, listen Listen to the Cook-House rock Listen to it, listen to it, listen Listen to the Cook-House rock