MONTY SONGS
MJ Bastable
All things dull and ug-ly,
All creatures, short and squat,
All things rude and na-sty,
The Lord God made the lot.
Each little snake that poisons,
Each little wasp that stings,
He made their prudish venom,
He made their horrid wings.
All things sick and cancerous,
All evil great and small,
All things foul and dangerous,
The Lord God made them all.
Each nasty little hornet,
Each beastly little squid,
Who made the spiky urchin?
Who made the sharks? He did!
All things scant and ulcerous,
All pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul and gangrenous,
The Lord God made them all.
Amen.
=======================================================================
"Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" from Monty Python's "Life of Brian"
Cheer up, Brian. You know what they say.
Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a wistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...
(the music fades into the song)
...always look on the bright side of life!
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And... always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Come on!
(other start to join in)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
For life is quite absurd,
And death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow!
Forget about your sin -- give the audience a grin,
Enjoy it -- it's the last chance anyhow!
So always look on the bright side of death!
Just before you draw your terminal breath.
Life's a piece of shit,
When you look at it.
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true,
You'll see it's all a show,
Keep 'em laughing as you go.
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!
And always look on the bright side of life...
(whistle)
Always look on the bright side of life
(whistle)
=======================================================================
The Opening Scene Song from "Monty Python's Life of Brian"
Brian...the babe they called Brian
Grew...grew grew and grew, grew up to be
A boy called Brian
A boy called Brian
He had arms and legs and hands and feet
This boy whose name was Brian
And he grew, grew, grew and grew
Grew up to be
Yes he grew up to be
A teenager called Brian
A teenager called Brian
And his face became spotty
Yes his face became spotty
And his voice dropped down low
And things started to grow
On young Brian and show
He was certainly no
No girl named Brian
Not a girl named Brian
And he started to shave
And have one off the wrist
And want to see girls
And go out and get pissed
This man called Brian
This man called Brian
=======================================================================
Philosophers song
Immanual Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table
David Hume could out consume
Schopenhauer and Hegel
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel
There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill
Plato they say, could stick it away
Half a crate of whiskey every day
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle
Hobbes was fond of his dram
And Rene' Descartes was a drunken fart
"I drink, therefore I am"
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed
A lovely little thinker
But a bugger when he's pissed
=======================================================================
The Song of the Knights of Camelot from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail"
Launcelot: Look, my liege!
(fanfare)
Launcelot: Camelot!
Robin: Camelot!
Galahad: Camelot!
Patsy: (whispered) It's only a model.
Galahad: Shh!
Arthur: Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride...to
CAMELOT!
song:
We're knights of the round table, we dance whene're we're able.
We do routines, and border scenes, with footwork imp-e-cable;
We dine well here in Camelot, we eat ham and jam and spamalot.
We're knights of the round table, our shows are for-mid-able
Though many times, we're given rhymes, that are quite un-sing-able
We're not so bad in Camelot, we sing from the Dia-phragm alot!
Though we're tough and able,
Quite in-de-fa-ti-gable,
Between our quests, we seek incest and impersonate Clark Gable,
It's a busy life in Camelot:
I have to push the pram-a-lot!
Arthur: On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.
Others: Right, right....
=======================================================================
The Decomposing Composers from Monty Python's Contractual Obligations Album
Beethoven's gone, but his music lives on,
And Mozart don't go shopping no more.
You'll never meet Lizst or Brahms again,
And Elgar doesn't answer the door.
Schubert and Chopin used to chuckle and laugh,
Whilst composing a long symphony.
But one hundred and fifty years later,
There's very little of them left to see.
The decomposing composers,
There's not much anyone can do.
You can still hear Beethoven,
But Beethoven cannot hear you.
Handel and Haydn and Rachmaninoff
Enjoyed a nice drink with their meal.
But nowadays no one will serve them,
And their gravy is left to congeal.
Verdi and Wagner delighted the crowds
With their highly original sounds.
The pianos they play are still working,
But they're both six feet underground.
The decomposing composers,
There's less of them every year.
You can say what you like to
But there's not much of them left to hear.
Claude Akil Debussy. Died, 1918.
Christof Viliborg Kralk. Died, 1787.
Carl Maria von Weber. Not at all well, 1825.
Died, 1826.
Giacommo Meiabier. Still alive, 1863.
Not still alive, 1864.
Modest Mussorgsky. 1880, going to parties.
No fun anymore, 1881.
Johann Neopok Hummel. Chattin' away 19 'an a dozen with his friends down at
the Pub every evenin', 1836.
1837, nothing.
=======================================================================
The answer: "Every Sperm Is Sacred", Lyrics by Michael Palin and Terry Jones.
There are Jews in the world, there are Buddists,
There are Hindus and Mormons and then
There are those that follow Mohammad, but
I've never been one of them.
I'm a Roman Catholic,
And have been since before I was born,
And the one thing they say about Catholics is
They'll take you as soon as you're warm.
You don't have to be a six footer,
You don't have to have a great brain,
You don't have to have any clothes on,
You're a Catholic the moment Dad came, because
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Let the heathen spill theirs,
On the dusty ground,
God shall make them pay for
Each sperm that can't be found.
Every sperm is wanted,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Hindu, Taoist, Morman,
Spill theirs just anywhere,
But God loves those who treat their
Semen with more care.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Every sperm is useful,
Every sperm is fine,
God needs everybody's,
Mine, and mine, and mine.
Let the pagans spill theirs,
O'er mountain, hill and plain.
God shall strike them down for
Each sperm that's spilt in vain.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is good,
Every sperm is needed,
In your neighborhood.
Every sperm is sacred,
Every sperm is great,
If a sperm is wasted,
God gets quite irate.
=======================================================================
The Galaxy song from "Monty Python's The Meaning of Life"
<spoken>
Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown,
And things seem hard or tough,
And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft,
<sung>
And you feel that you've had quite eno-o-o-o-o-ough,
Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving
And reolving at nine thousand miles an hour.
It's orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it's reckoned,
'Round the sun that is the source of all our power.
Now the sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day,
In the outer spiral arm, at fourteen thousand miles an hour,
Of a galaxy we call the Milky Way.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred million stars;
It's a hundred thousand light-years side to side;
It bulges in the middle sixteen thousand light-years thick,
But out by us it's just three thousand light-years wide.
We're thirty thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point,
We go 'round every two hundred million years;
And our galaxy itself is one of millions of billions
In this amazing and expanding universe.
<waltz>
Our universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding,
In all of the directions it can whiz;
As fast as it can go, that's the speed of light, you know,
Twelve million miles a minute and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth;
And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space,
'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth!
-- Eric Idle
=======================================================================
"I Like Traffic Lights"
[VERSE 1]
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
No matter where they've been.
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
But only when they're green.
[CHORUS 1]
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
No matter where they've been.
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
But only when they're green.
[VERSE 2]
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
That is what I said.
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
But not when they are red.
[CHORUS 2]
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
That is what he said.
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
He likes traffic lights,
But not when they are red.
[VERSE 3]
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
I like traffic lights,
Although my name's not Bamber.
I like traffic lights,
...oh God...
=======================================================================
"I'm so Worried" from Monty Python's Contractual Obligations Album
I'm so worried about what's hapenin' today, in the middle east, you know.
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow.
I'm so worried about the fashions today, I don't think they're good for your
feet.
And I'm so worried about the shows on TV that sometimes they want to repeat.
I'm so worried about what's happenin' today, you know.
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow.
I'm so worried about my hair falling out and the state of the world today.
And I'm so worried about bein' so full of doubt about everything, anyway.
I'm so worried about modern technology.
I'm so worried about all the things that they dump in the sea.
I'm so worried about it, worried about it, worried, worried, worried.
I'm so worried about everything that can go wrong.
I'm so worried about whether people like this song.
I'm so worried about this very next verse, it isn't the best that I've got.
And I'm so worried about whether I should go on, or whether I should just stop.
(pause)
I'm worried about whether I ought to have stopped.
And I'm worried about, it's the sort of thing I ought to know.
And I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow.
(longer pause)
I'm so worried about whether I should have stopped then.
I'm so worried that I'm driving everyone 'round the bend.
I'm worried about the baggage retrieval system they've got at Heathrow.
=======================================================================
"I've Got Two Legs" from "Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl" and "Live
at City Center 1974"
Oh, I got two legs from my waist to the ground, and
When I move 'em they walk around, and
When I lift 'em they climb the stairs, and
When I shave 'em they ain't got hairs!
>bang!<
=======================================================================
The Lumberjack Song from "Monty Python's Flying Circus"
Continued from Petshop, Barber, or a variety of other Python sketches....
I never wanted to do this job in the first place!
I... I wanted to be...
A LUMBERJACK!
(piano vamp)
Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the mighty rivers of
British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We'd sing! Sing! Sing!
Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.
CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.
I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.
CHORUS
I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps,
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around.... In bars???????
CHORUS
I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspendies and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.
Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels
Suspendies?? and a .... a Bra????
(spoken, raggedly) What's this? Wants to be a *girlie*? Oh, My!
And I thought you were so rugged! Poofter!
CHORUS
All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaaaayyy..... (BONG)
Sound Cue: The Liberty Bell March, by John Phillip Sousa.
-or-
===============================================================================
Dear Sir,
I wish to complain on the stronglyest possible terms about the previous
entry in this file about the lumberjack who wears womens' clothes. Some of
my best friends are lumberjacks, and only a FEW of them are transvestites.
Yours faithfully,
Brigadier Sir Charles Arthur Strong, Mrs.
P.S. I have never kissed the editor of the radio times.
=======================================================================
The Money Programme sketch from Monty Python's Flying Circus
(begins with pictures of money, bank vaults, gold, etc. overwritten by THE
MONEY PROGRAMME)
Eric Idle sits at a desk between Michael Palin and John Cleese. He begins
quietly but becomes increasingly agitated as he speaks.
Idle: Good evening, and welcome to The Money Programme. Tonight on The Money
Programme, we're going to look at money. Lots of it. On film, and in
the studio. Some of it in nice piles, others in lovely clanky bits of
loose change. Some of it neatly counted into fat little hundreds,
delicate fivers stuffed into bulging wallets, nice crisp clean checks,
pert pieces of copper coinage thrust deep into trouser pockets, romantic
foreign money rolling against the thigh with rough familiarity, beautiful
wayward curlicued banknotes, filigreed copper plating cheek by jowl with
tumbly ( ? ) rubbing gently against the terse leather of beautifully
balanced bank books!!
(He looks around in surprised realization that he's panting and screaming)
Idle: I'm sorry.
(adjusts tie, darts eyes around room)
Idle: But I love money.
All money. (growing excited again)
I've always wanted money.
To handle! To touch!
The smell of the rain-washed florin!
The lure of the lira!
The glitter and the glory of the guinea! (stands up )
The romance of the ruble! (stands on chair)
The feel of the franc! (stands on desk)
The heel of the deutschmark! (stomps foot)
The cold antiseptic sting of the Swiss franc!
And the sunburnt splendor of the Australian dollar! (slaps knee)
(sings the rest while dancing across desk; Michael and John just look at him
blandly.)
I've got ninety thousand pounds in my bank account.
I've got forty thousand French francs in my fridge.
I've got lots and lots of lira,
Now the deutschmark's getting dearer,
And my dollar bill could buy the Brooklyn Bridge.
There is...
(enter a chorus of 5 men in women's pilgrim costumes)
...nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing quite as beautiful as cash!
Some people say it's folly, but I'd rather have the lolly (?),
With money you can make a splash!
(chorus kneels ans sings "money, money, money" through Idle's solos )
There is nothing quite as wonderful as money!
There is nothing quite as beautiful as cash!
Everyone must hanker for the butchness of a banker (all give Italian Salute)
It's the currency that makes the world go round!
(a harp is wheeled across the stage but not played)
You can keep your Marxist ways, for it's only just a phase...
Money, money, money makes the world go round!
(play money falls from above as chorus reaches a glorious crescendo)
Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money! Money!
=======================================================================
The "Not Noel Coward Song" from "Monty Python's Meaning of Life" ****
Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis.
Isn't it simply grand to have a dong.
It's swell to have a stiffy, it's divine to own a dick,
From the tiniest little tadger to the world's biggest prick...
So three cheers for your Willy or John Thomas,
Hooray for your one-eyed trouser snake.
Your piece of pork, your wife's best friend,
Your Percy or your cock,
You can wrap it up in ribbons, you can slip it in your sock,
But don't take it out in public or they'll stick you in the dock,
And you won't a-come a-back.
Eric Idle
=======================================================================
The Rhubarb Tart song
I want another slice of rhubarb tart.
I want another lovely slice.
I'm not disparaging the blueberry pie
But rhubarb tart is oh so very nice.
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A whatbarb tart? A rhubarb tart!
I want another slice of rhubarb tart!
The principles of modern philosophy
Were postulated by Descartes.
Discarding everything he wasn't certain of
He said 'I think therefore I am a rhubarb tart.'
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A Rene who? Rene Descartes!
Poor nut he thought he was a rhubarb tart!
Read all the existentialist philosophers,
Like Schopenhauer and Jean-Paul Sartre.
Even Martin Heidegger agrees on one thing:
Eternal happiness is rhubarb tart.
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb tart!
A Jean-Paul who? A Jean-Paul Sartre!
Eternal happiness is rhubarb tart.
A rhubarb tart has fascinated all the poets.
Especially the immortal bard.
He caused Richard the Third to call on Bosworth Field:
'My kingdom for a slice of rhubarb tart!'
A rhubarb what? A rhubarb bard!
Immortal what? Immortal tart!
As rhymes go that is really pretty bard!
-- John Cleese
=======================================================================
"Sit on my Face" from "Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl"
Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me.
I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too.
I love to hear you moralize,
When I'm between your thighs;
You blow me away!
Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you.
I'll sit on your face and let my love be truly.
Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine,
And we'll sit on our faces in all sorts of places and play,
'Till we're blown away!
=======================================================================
The Spam Sketch from the second series of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" and
"Monty Python's Previous Record"
(Spam = Spiced Pork And Ham, a sort of cheap luncheon meat)
Scene: A cafe. One table is occupied by a group of Vikings with horned
helmets on. A man and his wife enter.
Man (Eric Idle): You sit here, dear.
Wife (Graham Chapman in drag): All right.
Man (to Waitress): Morning!
Waitress (Terry Jones, in drag as a bit of a rat-bag): Morning!
Man: Well, what've you got?
Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg sausage and bacon; egg and spam;
egg bacon and spam; egg bacon sausage and spam; spam bacon sausage
and spam; spam egg spam spam bacon and spam; spam sausage spam spam
bacon spam tomato and spam;
Vikings (starting to chant): Spam spam spam spam...
Waitress: ...spam spam spam egg and spam; spam spam spam spam spam spam baked
beans spam spam spam...
Vikings (singing): Spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam!
Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor a Crevette with a mornay sauce served in a
Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with
truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in
it.
Wife: I don't want ANY spam!
Man: Why can't she have egg bacon spam and sausage?
Wife: THAT'S got spam in it!
Man: Hasn't got as much spam in it as spam egg sausage and spam, has it?
Vikings: Spam spam spam spam (crescendo through next few lines)
Wife: Could you do the egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam then?
Waitress: Urgghh!
Wife: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like spam!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!)
Waitress: Shut up!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg bacon
spam and sausage without the spam.
Wife (shrieks): I don't like spam!
Man: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it.
I'm having spam spam spam spam spam spam spam beaked beans spam spam
spam and spam!
Vikings (singing): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.
Man: Well could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then?
Waitress: You mean spam spam spam spam spam spam... (but it is too late and
the Vikings drown her words)
Vikings (singing elaborately): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful
spam! Spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam spa-a-a-a-a-am spam. Lovely spam!
Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Spam spam
spam spam!
=======================================================================
St. Victor of Python
And it came to pass that Saint Victor was taken from this place
to another place, where he was lain to rest himself amongst sheets
of muslin and velvet.
And there stroked was he by maidens of the Orient.
For sixteen days and nights stroked they him, yea verily and
caressed him.
His hair, ruffled they. And their fingers rubbethed they in oil
of olives, and ranneth them across all parts of his body for as much
as to soothe him.
And the soles of his feet licked they. And the upper parts of
his thigh did they anoint with the balm of forbidden trees.
And with the teeth of their mouths, nibbled they the pointed
bits at the top of his ears. Yea verily, and did their tongues
thereof make themselves acquainted with his most secret places.
For fifteen days and nights did Victor withstand these maidens,
until he cried out, saying:
"This...is fantastic! Oh...this is *terrific!!*"
And the Lord did here the cry of Victor. And verily came He down
and slew the maidens. And caused their cottonwool bugs to blow away,
and their Kleenex to be laid waste utterly.
And Victor, in his anguish, cried out that the Lord was a rotten
bastard.
So the Lord sent an angel to comfort Victor for the weekend.
And entered they together the jaccuzzi.
Here endeth the lesson.
=======================================================================
Wow eh ;)
Martin B.
se1...@dmu.ac.uk