A selection of classic tunes based on the Four Farties adventures from the pens and warped minds of Linda and Trev.
Let’s Buy Lots Of Postcards
Trev, Clive and The Gift Shop Girls
(apologies to the Pet Shop Boys’ ‘Opportunities’)
We’ve had enough of castles,
They’re draughty and they’re damp.
We’ve got so many photos,
That our hands our getting cramp.
We’re looking for a gift shop,
A place that’s warm and dry.
Where we can look for hours,
Till we find something to buy.
I’ve got the shortbread, you’ve got the bookmark,
Let’s buy lots of postcards.
I’ve got the funny badge, you’ve got the fluffy toy.
Let’s buy some more postcards.
You can tell that we’re determined,
As we visit every shop.
We just ignore your pleading,
There’s no way that we will stop.
We must study every item,
We don’t care about the time.
We’ve got to visit every shop,
To miss one is a crime.
Oh, there’s a lot of lovely postcards,
If you know where to find them.
You know, there’s a lot of lovely postcards,
You can bet that we will find them.
We will find them.
I’ve got the sweatshirt, you’ve got the brandy fudge,
Let’s buy lots of postcards.
I’ve got the keyring, you’ve got the T-shirt,
Let’s buy some more postcards.
You can see we’re single minded,
We know just what to get.
And there’s, oh, so many people,
That we haven’t bought for yet.
There’s jewellery and there’s keyrings,
Local souvenirs galore.
Our bag’s are overflowing,
But we’re off to buy some more.
I’ve got the jumper, you’ve got the tartan scarf,
Let’s buy lots of postcards.
I’ve got the whiskey, you’ve got the home-made jam,
Let’s buy some more postcards
(c) Linda Bingham, 1990
Loosing My Patience
by Crowded Chalet
(with apologies to REM’s ‘Loosing My Religion’)
Oh the case,
Is bigger,
It’s bigger than the boot,
That we’re packing.
The length’s smaller than the width, the distance we will go.
Oh no I’ve packed too much,
I’ve packed it all.
That’s mine in the corner.
That’s mine in the plas-tic bag,
Under the suitcase,
Trying to squeeze more in.
And I don’t know if I can do it.
Oh no, I’ve packed too much,
I haven’t packed enough.
I thought that you packed the peanuts,
I thought that you packed the crisps.
I think I saw you pack the drink.
Ev-er-y item,
That we might ever need,
I’m choosing with precision.
Trying to keep the list quite small.
But it keeps on expanding, growin’.
Oh no I’ve packed to much,
I even packed the cat.
Consider these, several hats,
Do we really need these?
Consider these,
Kettle, dryer and stereo,
HELL!
What are all these souvenirs? gifts? Is this the lot?
No more room… that’s it.
I thought that you packed the sofa,
I thought that you packed the lamp.
I think I’m sure we packed the chairs.
Is that another bag?
Is that another bag?
That’s mine in the corner.
That’s mine in the plas-tic bag,
Under the suitcase.
Trying to squeeze more in.
And I don’t know if I can do it.
Oh no we’ve bought too much.
We cannot pack it all.
I thought that you packed the C.D.s,
I thought that you packed the tapes.
I think I’m sure we packed the discs.
Is that another bag?
Packin’, stackin’,
Packin’, stackin’.
This is too extreme.
One more bag,
One more case.
Stop.
(c) Linda Bingham 1994
Is The Bathroom Free
by Crowded Chalet
(with apologies to Abba’s ‘Take A Chance On Me’)
Gonna wash my hair,
Is that you in there?
‘Cos I want a wee,
Is the bathroom free?
When you’ve finished,
Let me know,
I can’t hang around.
There is nowhere else to go,
Will you hurry out?
Well I might have known.
Look you know I hate to moan,
But I was here first,
And I might just burst.
Gonna go and get my chair,
And sit right down here.
No one’s gonna get past me,
Do I make it clear?
Where the bathroom’s free,
Then the next one’s me.
I can’t keep waiting,
Come on get a move on.
Can’t stay in there forever.
Now you’d better listen.
‘Cos I’m not joking,
Gonna break in there and get ya.
‘Cos you know that there’s,
So much that I wanna do,
Wash my hair,
Brush my teeth too, it’s urgent!
You want me to wait out here,
Well I’m not going to wait all year,
Okay, here I come,
Breakin’ in at a run.
Gonna wash my hair…
I’m gonna take my time washing,
I’m in no hurry,
Now I’ve got the shower,
I’ve got plenty of soap suds,
This could take an hour.
Then I’ll wash my hair,
Put some conditioner on,
Wait ’till the job is done,
Then rinse it.
You say that I take too long,
But I tell you now you’re wrong,
No I disagree,
‘Cos the next one’s me.
Gonna wash my hair…
(c) Linda Bingham 1994
Drying My Pants
(with apologies to Abba’s ‘Mamma Mia’)
I’ve been drying my pants,
Since I don’t know when.
Linda’s run out of kecks,
Now she’s wearing Trev’s .
And when I washed ,
I had no idea,
Just how my smalls,
Would take such a long time to dry.
They’re still damp,
It could make you cry.
Just one pair
Of dry socks that’s all I want .
One dry pair
Of boxers, Y-fronts or thong.
Whoa Whoa.
Mamma Mia,
I need under-ware.
My my, just can’t get them dry.
Mamma Mia,
Is the price we pay,
My my, holidaying this way,
(do de do de do de do de do etc.)
We’ve tried all sorts of means,
To get our under-ware dry.
Rads and car aerials,
Bedside lamps?
Worth a try!
Across the road ,
Is that a launderette?
Oh damn its closed.
My wrinkled hands,
They look very old,
As they reach for
That box of Bold.
Just one pair
Of dry socks that’s all I want.
One dry pair
Of boxers, Y-fronts or thong.
Whoa Whoa .
Mamma Mia,
I need under-ware.
My my, just can’t get them dry.
Mamma Mia,
Is the price we pay,
My my, holidaying this way.
Clive’s got a big collection,
Joy’s we don’t dare to mention.
Next time,
We’re all going ‘commando’
(do de do de do de do de do etc)
(c) Trev 2004
On And On And On
(with apologies to Abba)
The Four Farties in Canada,
We can’t believe we’re here.
Wandering around Ottowa,
We’re gagging for a beer.
We’ve shopped,
We’ve done museums,
Had our fill of Indian food
We’re looking for a pub,
In which to partake of local booze
Our quest is getting urgent,
‘Cos our Linda needs the ‘john’.
We find an Irish bar, “hurrah!”,
In here we can’t go wrong
On and on and on,
Keep on drinking baby,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
Keep on boozin’ baby,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
‘Til the night is gone.
Trev is getting thirsty,
And is wondering who would buy.
Pretending to be flirty,
He is giving Clive the eye,
Clive says “mate, what’re you doing,
“are you looking at my bra?””
Joy shakes her hair,
And takes a casual stroll up to the bar.
And as sure as hell,
The barman asks “what will it be?”
“Orange juice for Linda,
Beers for Clive and Trev and me”.
The band doing Proclaimers,
“I Would Walk 500 miles”
Silver Fox the barman,
Pours the Moosehead and he smiles.
Joy hands him a fresh dollar bill,
And starts to sing along.
He says keep on drinking baby,
Till the night is gone.
On and on and on,
Keep on drinking baby,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
Keep on boozin’ baby,
‘Til the night is gone.
On and on and on,
‘Til the night is gone .
Moosehead’s very scary,
If you’ve had a Sag Aloo.
Trev had to miss the breakfast,
He was kneeling at the loo.
Settlers, Akla Seltza,
Gaviscon just brink em on!
Gotta keep on drinking baby,
Till the night is gone.
{repeat chorus and fade}
(c) Trev 2004
SAG ALOO
(with apologies to Abba’s ‘Voulez Vous’)
Junk food everywhere,
Scent of burgers, Pizzas hanging in the air.
Here we come, the Farts.
Need nutrition, our tums are rumbling in the dark.
And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end,
Masters of the scene.
We’ve done it all before and now we’re back to get some more,
You know what I mean.
Sag Aloo.
Have it as a main dish,
As a side dish, lets!
Always scrummy, no regrets.
Sag Aloo.
Ain’t no big decision,
You know what to do,
La question c’est ‘do you do,
Sag Aloo?’
I know what you think,
Those Farts are curry mad, cor blimey, they must stink.
The diet here is vile,
Whenever we spot an ‘Indian’ we’re pushin’ through the crowd.
We’re really tired of burgers, we’re tired of fries, its all the same,
The people are obese.
We’ve had enough of pancakes, filled with cream and treacle too,
You know what I mean.
Sag Aloo.
Have it as a main dish,
As a side dish, lets!,
Always scrummy, no regrets.
Sag Aloo.
Ain’t no big decision,
You know what to do,
La question ce ‘do you do…
Sag Aloo?’
It goes with Chicken Korma, Lamb Pasanda, Beef Madras.
Its lovely on the side,
Have it with Biriyani, Tandori or Vindaloo.
You know what I mean.
Sag Aloo,
Have it as a main dish,
As a side dish, lets!
Always scrummie, no regrets.
Sag Aloo.
Ain’t no big decision,
You know what to do,
La question c’est ‘do you do…
Sag Aloo?’
Sag Aloo.
Have it as a main dish,
As a side dish, lets!
Always scrummie, no regrets.
Sag Aloo.
Ain’t no big decision,
You know what to do.
La question c’est ‘do you do…
Sag Aloo?’
(instrumental break: each Fartie in turn
‘throws shapes’ on the dance floor)
Sag Aloo.
A-ha.
A-ha.
A-HA!
Sag Aloo.
A-ha.
A-ha.
A-HA!
Sag Aloo.
A-ha.
A-ha.
A-HA!
Sag Aloo.
A-ha.
A-ha.
A-HA!
Sag Aloo.
Have it as a main dish.
As a side dish, lets!
Always scrummy, no regrets.
Sag Aloo.
Ain’t no big decision,
You know what to do.
La question ce ‘do you do…
Sag Aloo?’
(repeat to fade)
(repeat till Settlers kick in)
**caution: Sag Aloo as a main course should not, repeat NOT, be consumed after 4 pints of Moosehead lager or you are liable to disappear through your own ring-piece the following morning**
(c) Trev 2004
FOURPLAY 