CLOSE ENOUGH FOR ROCK & ROLL

Flub & Dub, 1999.

Mike O'Brien: vocals, acoustic guitar on "Further
   Deductions"
Wallace Hammond: guitar
Doug Ivey: bass, demented backup vocals, vocal on
   "Detox"
Tony Richards: harmonica, lead vocals on "Mad Cow"
   and "Ireland's Eye", acoustic guitar on
   "Ireland's Eye", machine on "Wilbur", lead guitar
   on "Pyrate Johnny", backup vocals throughout
Justin Hall: batterie (drums, bye!)
Craig Squires: soprano sax, sax-o-bombarde,
   synthesizer, bass on "Detox"

Recorded at 88 King's Road, St. John's, November 1999.
Engineered by Wallace Hammond. Tape Op & Log: Denise Brake.
Mixed "live off the floor" direct to DAT by Wallace Hammond & Dog Meat BBQ - absolutely no overdubs or remixing!
Cover art & additional design suggestions by Wallace Ryan.

Click on a title to get the goods:

WILBUR

(Words by Wallace Hammond & Mike O'Brien; music by Wallace Hammond)

Wilbur worked at the gas station
But wilbur was not content
Somehow all that gas money
Just could not pay the rent
Now Wilbur liked high rollin
On truckin he was bent
A Shreddies truck rolled in one day
To the driver Wilbur went

The driver said to Wilbur
If you really want my job
You gotta start off in the Shreddies plant
Where they peel the corn off the cob
So Wilbur gave up gassin
And he went down to the plant
He signed up for the graveyard shift
And he moved in with his aunt

Well things went fine at first you know
Till they put him out on the line
There were men up there on PCP
They were strung out all the time
It was easy to lose an eyeball
Or a tooth or a leg or an ear
Or many other parts of the body
That Wilbur did hold so dear

But worst of all was cancer
Which everybody got
What was left of you would start shakin
And the frayed edges would rot
Wilbur watched his buddies
They were droppin one by one
But Wilbur still dreamed of truckin
And eatin on the run

But fate caught up with Wilbur one day
One day on the assembly line
When one of his fingers got all balled up
In a ball of packin twine
Pretty soon he lost a toe
And after that a foot
Lost both his earlobes and his nose
And his hair was all burnt to soot

Wilbur was out on the loadin dock
When a Mack truck took his leg
The insurance man found PCP
And the dividend wasn't paid
The work bosses looked at Wilbur
Knew he didn't have much time
So they moved poor Wilbur down
To the toughest part of the line

Now down in this part of the factory
You were lucky to last a day
You could end up in the Shreddies
And lose all of your back pay
Must be that he was unlucky
Poor Wilbur didn't have a chance
A Shreddies baler caught him
By the empty leg of his pants

So if you need a moral
A moral for this song
You'd best not work in the Shreddies plant
Where a man don't last too long
If you want to be a trucker
Don't forget to pack a lunch
Look for Wilbur in your Shreddies
Snap, crackle and crunch

TORY FROM MUSKOKA

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien, Wallace Hammond & Duncan Snowden)

We don't smoke marijuana in Muskoka
we don't vote for the goddamned NDP
we don't drink that heathen beer on Sunday
we're proud of our acid rain and PCBs

CHORUS:

And I'm proud to be a Tory from Muskoka
a place where right wing squares can have a ball
we still fly the old flag down at the legion
and bingo's still the biggest thrill of all.

We don't give two shits about unemployment
toxic dumps or Yankee cruise missles too
we don't give no sass to Mr. Reagan
like them commies down in Nicaragua do

CHORUS

We wear pinstripe suits we bought at Eatons
jeans and Mohawk haircuts won't be seen
Sinatra's still the hottest thing on the airwaves
and the kids here still respect the fuckin queen

CHORUS

In white anglo-saxon protestant Ontario...

CLAR RILEYS RATHOLE

(Words by Wallace Hammond; Music by Wallace Hammond & Doug Ivey)

Down near the arsehole of the universe
Where the boys in suits roll in their puke
And the gutter's curse is never far
There's a tavern run by a man named Clar
Yeah, that's the strip where the loud-mouths stroll
Where the sign says "Clar Riley's Rathole"

Clar's place has been there for so long
Back in the days before the dawn
When Clar sold the first underage beer
To a young Bee-elze with hoofs like deer
Cain and Abel made happy hour
Had a few too many and things went sour
Thirteen yeehaws drank wine - and some
When the last supper ended hit Clar's for rum

CHORUS:

Rathole - it's a shitty rathole
Rathole - it's a shitty rathole

Down at Clar's there's always a stool
For the shit-faced twit and the loused-up tool
You can hear them bawl for the same old song
To the mouldy old faves they sing along
The joint's so loud you can hardly hear
With the dregs of the human race on a tear
And Clar presides over the works
With an eye to the swill and a face that smirks

CHORUS

Of a Saturday night, Clar gets bored
Sends for the bouncers with the word
Every seventh son of a seventh son
We'll stomp tonite til the blood runs
And the youngest ones with their skirts so high
We'll ply with booze till they scream and cry
An to disco beats we'll watch them flutter
Out through the door tits up in the gutter

CHORUS

Now Clar takes a hankerin to rip off the band
There's no hootchie-koo or sleight of hand
Just a quick "fuck you" and if you don't like it
There's plenty will eat Clar's shit - so hike it!
But Clar reserves a special fate
For the boys the strangest music make
He's got a record producer friend
Who'll sign them up - it'll be their end

CHORUS

They go for broke till the crow of the cock
When Clar locks up and slides under a rock
The cops haul the drunks to the drunkard's tank
And the derelicts eat from the garbage rank
The blood is washed from the sidewalks bare
And the souls of the departed rest somewhere
And all looks tame by the light of day
But up comes noon and it's time to play

CHORUS

I HATE MY JOB

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

When I was unemployed
I was not overjoyed
When I was unemployed
I was not overjoyed
I was just a drunk
Now I'm an office skunk
Workin for a Nazi slob
And now I hate my fuckin job

CHORUS:

I hate my job
I hate my job
I hate my fuckin job
I hate my job
I hate my job
I hate my fuckin job

I'm upwardly mobile
Lickin the boss's ass
I'm upwardly mobile
Lickin the boss's ass
Now I got the word
Life as a Company turd
Success is assured
Cause now I'm on the board

CHORUS

I backstabbed and finked
To get to where I am
You gotta have that business sens
If you wanna earn the clams

CHORUS

I sucked a middle management cock
And I crossed the picket line
I sucked a middle management cock
And I crossed the picket line
I am just a scab
A pusshead radio gab
A moron by any other name
Would stink just the same

CHORUS

THE EVIL DRUNKS

(Words & music by Mike O'Brien)

It's 11 p.m.
and your party's just right
all your friends are sippin cocktails
and actin erudite
they're talkin bout Nietzsche, they're talkin bout Freud
when all of a sudden the door bursts open wide
and all your worst fears just been realised
cause here come the evil drunks

CHORUS:

Yeah, we're the evil drunks
come to crash your party
we're gonna drink up all your vodka
and get right out to lunch
we're gonna hit on your women
spew up on your carpet
we ain't no ordinary punks
baby, we're the evil drunks

We'll stage a little raid
on your medicine cabinet
we're gonna scarf down every scrap of drugs
that we can find in it
we'll whoop er up and get right on the go
slap Beggar's Banquet on your stereo
and crank it right up until the speakers blow
cause baby, we're the evil drunks

CHORUS

Your middle class friends
they all stare in abject horror
they don't know what to make
of this threat to law and order
they shake their little heads as we stagger and shout
and we wander around with our dicks hangin out
and butt out our smokes on your thousand dollar couch
cause baby, we're the evil drunks

CHORUS

THE KING OF BULLSHIT

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

He's the right guy with the right connections
to the touchy feely crowd
he was in the news last week again
spoke his lowest thoughts out loud
saying "when the laws are broken
then the ones who do must pay!"
but he and his friends they never do
it's their place and it's their way

CHORUS:

He's the King of Bullshit
don't ya cross him
and don't you step on his toes
he knows the palms to grease and the places off shore
where all the money goes
he's the King of Bullshit - where all the money goes
he's the King of Bullshit - where all the money goes

On the golf course and in the sushi bar
he's the life of every party
he's your old pal and you're his good buddy
but it's business, so watch your back
for a piece of the action and a slice of the pie
he can really set you up
he knows the ones to buy in the places that count
and can influence the people you don't

CHORUS

He's got a buddy down in Nassau
who can't come home no more
there's too many widows and kids he's fleeced
they won't ever let that go
ya, he and his friends still wheel and deal
just like they did before
he's got his own beach and he owns the Pres
and he'll never want no more

CHORUS

THE BOATS THAT JOEY COULDN'T BURN

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

July 1, 1916
The first 500 fishers taken
To charge the Kaiser's guns
A generation shaken
But 65 saw the next sunrise
The British high command
The Kaiser's gunners
And the graves in the fields of France
Could not break them all, take them all ...

CHORUS:

We are the boats that Joey
And his Waffen SS con-men couldn't burn
The ones the Kaiser's gunners
And the Ottawa runners couldn't turn

'92 - we cannot fish
We cannot seal
Get before they cut the link
To Toronto for your next meal
For fifty years they've ruled the roost
And picked the waters clean
You dying boys head off to the bright
The shiny and the mean, and the mean ...

CHORUS

Jan'ry One, 2000 zero
We're still here on this rock
Their cinderella computer world
Has turned out to be crock
The ICBM boys, you see
Never thought to get this far
Figured by now we'd all be blown
To the nearest star, to the nearest star ...

CHORUS

While the fund for animal welfare
Fights to the death for snails
And the zeros turn and the Bernardos
Are let loose out of jails
Out on the rock the boys
For the ice flows will set sail
Cause next year, we'll be swilin
And you'll be dyin, you'll be dyin ...

CHORUS

THE ROCKS OF IRELAND'S EYE

(Words by Tony Richards, Mike O'Brien & Wallace Hammond; music by Tony Richards)

On an island out in Trinity Bay
The ships are rollin in
They don't carry haddock, they don't carry cod
Just hash and heroin
It's for the lunchbags upalong
Way up in Montreal
The Mafia boys are waiting there
When the has boat comes to call

CHORUS:

With a pile of hash
A big pile of hash
On the rocks of Ireland's Eye

Two hundred million smackeroos
Well that's a load of dope
To Ireland's Eye they snuck it in
So the boys could have their tokes
The transport trucks were standing by
For the hash was on the way
Till the ship that lugged fifteen tons of drugs
Came sailin up into the bay

CHORUS

But the Mounties sly were standin by
Three weeks they his from view
They lit no fires and they drank no beer
Those lawmen tried and true
They saw the ship, the trap they sprung
It went according to plan
And on the beach at Ireland's Eye
The Mounties got their man

CHORUS

They seized the drugs and impounded the truck
The boys got locked away
The Mounties are sellin onions now
To the shops in Trinity Bay
So listen up, you lunchcase crowd
You won't be smokin no hash
You'll have to smoke them onions, bye
When you has your Christmas bash

With a pile of hash
That's corned beef hash
On the rocks of Ireland's Eye

PYRATE JOHNNY

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien, Wallace Hammond, Doug Ivey, Tony Richards & Justin Hall)

In London town, where I did dwell
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
In London town, where I did dwell
A sailor lad I loved so well
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

My Johnny lad, he loved the sea
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
My Johnny lad, he loved the sea
He loved it more than he ever loved me
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

My Johnny's gone to sea again
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
My Johnny's gone to sea again
He's off to sail the Caribbean
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

Word has come into our town
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
Word has come into our town
My Johnny's for a pirate gone
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

He robbed a Spanish brigantine
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
He robbed a Spanish brigantine
To buy for me a gown of green
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

He robbed the Dutch, he robbed the Danes
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
He robbed the Dutch, he robbed the Danes
To buy for me a golden chain
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

The Navy hunt him night and day
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
The Navy hunt him night and day
If they catches he, there'll be hell to pay
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

They found him on the sixth of May
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
They found him on the sixth of May
While makin for Montego Bay
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

They've taken him, in shackles bound
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
They've taken him, in shackles bound
To hang him high in Kingston Town
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

His last poor words before he died
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
His last poor words before he died
He wished that I was by his side
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

Come every lass who loves you beau
Weigh anchor, boys, now all together
Come every lass who loves you beau
Don't let him for a pirate go
Weigh anchor, boys, and haul away

LUNAR DETOX

(Words by Mike O'Brien, Wallace Hammond & Craig Squires; music by Wallace Hammond & Doug Ivey)

I spent the whole damn weekend
Down in Lunar Detox
Where the moonies are friendly
And you have a good time
In a cell with padded ceilings
Down in Lunar Detox
They give me lots of enemas
Won't give me no wine

I got no friends outside this crater
No one hears me sing this tune
Lunar Detox every Sunday
It ain't easy
It ain't easy dryin out on the moon

I'm spendin every weekend
Down in Lunar Detox
I got a lifetime membership
They cure me all the time
Then I go get pissed again
And land in Lunar Detox
Back where sun myung moonies
Won't give me no wine

I got no friends outside this crater
No one hears me sing this tune
Lunar Detox every Sunday
It ain't easy
It ain't easy dryin out on the moon

MAD COW DISEASE

(Words & music by Mike O'Brien)

When I got home this morning
a little after four
That pretty little gal of mine
she met me at the door
I gave he lame excuses
she didn't understand
She whomped me on the noggin
with a cast-iron fryin pan

CHORUS:

My baby's got - mad cow disease
I'm on my knees
I'm beggin please please please
My baby's got - mad cow disease
oh won't somebody help me please

I read about mad cow disease
in my morning rag
And I deduced immediately
that's what my baby had
Her eyes they get all fiery
her face it gets all red
And every time I'm drunk she goes
right off her pretty head

CHORUS

Whenever I go on the tear
my baby gets upset
She kinda blows a gasket
and it scares me half to death
She gets so gosh-durned crazy
what can the matter be
I thought it might be PMS
but it's really BSE

CHORUS

LAW ENFORCEMENT

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien, Doug Ivey & Wallace Hammond)

Hey kiddies, are you all messed up
bout what to do like when you grow up
well I got just the thing for you
you can be the man in blue

CHORUS:

Law enforcement can be fun
you get the badge, you get to carry a gun
law enforcer don't take no shit
it's the ultimate power trip
(to compensate for your tiny dick)

If you see some funny-lookin freaks downtown
you can take their butts and you can kick em all around
satisfy your sadistic ambition
knock em down - make em assume the position

CHORUS

If there's some minority that you don't like
well, law enforcement will suit you right
you see em goin where they oughtn't to go
whip out your piece and plug em smack fulla holes

CHORUS

And lemme tell you what's really a hoot
go out and nab yourself a prostitute
say you're gonna stick her ass in the lockup
if she don't get on down and suck suck suck it

CHORUS

So kiddies, if you're all messed up
bout what to do like when you grow up
like I said, it's the thing for you
you gotta be that man in blue

CHORUS

CRIME DON'T PAY?

(Words & music by Mike O'Brien)

Well my name is Billy B.
I'm as shifty as can be
I rode in on the 7:40 train
just to sleaze around
in your sleepy little town
I'm mean and I'm nasty and I'm strange

All my money, it was drank
so I went down to the bank
I said gimme all the fives and tens you got
but the banker he said no
said I couldn't get no dough
so I whipped out my old 45 and shot

Stuck my hand into the till
took a pocketful of bills
and I lit out straight away for Mexico
headin down to Juarez town
pretty women all around
where them warm southern breezes blow

But the posse ran me down
in a lonely Texas town
I guess that I was just too drunk to fight
stuck my tail inside a jail
not a hope in hell of bail
and they're plum intent on hangin me tonight

I'm a runnin outa hope
now they're tyin up the rope
I hear the angry mob outside the door
I'll be payin for my crime
tied to seven feet of twine
and I won't be whistlin Dixie anymore

They were gettin mean outside
they were screamin for my hide
and I knew I had to think of something fast
I said "don't send me to my doom
I love Jesus just like you"
they qot all blissed out and freed my heathen ass

So we finally come along
to the moral of this song
and truer words have never yet been wrote
crime just doesn't pay
not unless you get away
come November I'll be countin on your vote.

THE SLICK RED FOX

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien, Wallace Hammond, Doug Ivey & Justin Hall)

The slick Red Fox
with his proud struttin walk
he used to roam around our town
a wreakin havoc in the flock
with his eyes so blue
his tongue a drippin drool
always lookin for a chicken
just to stick his teeth into
the slick Red Fox
the nasty Red Fox
the chickens are all leery
of the slick Red Fox

The slick Red Fox
he kept his money in a box
it was taken from the people
through the scams that he'd concoct
if he wanted somethin bad
he'd take it right out of your ass
like the number one example
of that nasty ruling class
the slick Red Fox
the hungry Red For
they coulda wrote Das Kapital
just for the slick Red Fox

The slick Red Fox
he was as mean as Papa Doc
he didn't like my face
he didn't like the way I talked
he tried to pin me down
every time I turned around
and if he ever got his chance
he'd try to drink my blood on down
the slick Red Fox
the sneakin Red Fox
we used to run in mortal terror
from the slick Red Fox

The slick Red Fox
he used to run the factory clocks
he spent his daytimes makin money
spent his nighttimes bitin cocks
you know he trampled on the poor
as he was runnin up his score
and everybody in the henhouse
hated him a little more
the slick Red Fox
the devilish Red Fox
all the chickens swore revenge
upon the slick Red Fox

The slick Red Fox
he hoarded up his bonds and stocks
each night he took another hen
and sipped his whiskey on the rocks
you know he thought he was the law
until we found his fatal flaw
a way to bring that crook to bay
all drippin red in tooth and claw
the slick Red Fox
the slimy Red Fox
you could feel the tables turnin
on the slick Red Fox

The slick Red Fox
he ended up right on the rocks
when he got a brutal lesson
from the school of hard knocks
and so that slick bullshit clown
was overtaken by the hounds
and they ripped him to shreds
down on the wrong side of town
the slick Red Fox
the stinkin Red Fox
that's all you're gonna hear about
the slick Red Fox.

THE GUN NUT CONFLAGRATION

(Words & music by Wallace Hammond)

The schoolyard's full of tears
The pistol packin sons of the good old boys
Have knelt to say their prayers
But they still make the same ole noise
My daddy's gun beats your daddy's gun
And good old boys will always be just boys

CHORUS:

And they say -
Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
They shout from the back of the class
Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
Next time you hear this, boys
The draft board will be on your fuckin ass - on your fuckin ass

The bully boys have lit a fart on the back arsehole of Europe
Said "Hell no, war won't start" - once again they blew it
Every one is doin their part, mouths shut tight and closin up their eyes

CHORUS

Maybe they'll get Marilyn Manson to play USO stages
Sure as Hell they're gonna want the young boys of the nation
All to march blindly down to the gun nut conflagration

CHORUS

REPEAT FIRST VERSE & CHORUS

OUTRO:

Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
Chicken chicken - you're a ... chicken
Chicken little - dirty little chicken

LUST FOR A VAMPIRE

(Words by Mike O'Brien; music by Mike O'Brien & Craig Squires)

I'm lustin for a vampire
in the sweet dark evil night
lustin for a vampire
with her teeth so pearly white
she can take me right to town
she can drink my blood right down
I'm lustin for a little vampire bite

CHORUS:

I'm goin la la la la... &c.

I'm lustin for a vampire
that stalks the cool night air
lustin for a vampire
with her long black shiny hair
she was lookin right demented
in that video I rented
now I'm lustin for that vampire over there

CHORUS

I'm lustin for a vampire
in a world of mystery
lustin for a vampire
but I think she don't want me
we'd make a pretty picture
but she likes her blood much richer
I'm in lustin for a vampire misery

CHORUS

I'm lustin for a vampire
in the sweet dark evil night
lustin for a vampire
with her teeth so pearly white
she can take right to town
she can drink my blood right down
I'm lustin for a little vampire bite

CHORUS

FURTHER BRILLIANT DEDUCTIONS

(Words & music by Mike O'Brien)

Well there's your damn problem, boy
why can't you see
your perspective is fucked
by the guck on TV
and their dumb jingle jive's got you
run up a tree
you been bought
sold and shaved
by the Big Company
that feeds you the news
and its asinine views
and its back-handed threats
of those dark welfare queues
They puff you up
smile
and then step on your head
and they own your damned soul
cause you're stuck
in the red
They promise you paychecks
and miracle pills
then they shovel you under
and call it God's will
So as you sit breathless
and watch them compete
for those valuable prizes
or humble defeat
Remember those pictures
are never for real
the price isn't right
and they won't make a deal
They cast lots
for your soul
when you die on the dole
and then raise high their flag
to the top of the pole
And as you sit rotting
in some wasted hole
the corporate bosses
are still in control
So that's your damn problem
but don't shake in fear
just stay tuned to Oprah
and drink lots of beer.

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