Chorus:
Gimme reggae
Tudor Reggae
Medieval Rasta vibe
Gimme Henry
Good King Henry
Wants to be a Rastafari

Dabbled in time travel
But everything unravel
It all gone wrong
Now I singing this song
Took a gamble
Now I marooned in the Shambles
Hovels of thatch and sod
Butchery and piss pots

Chorus

'Tis 1541
Medieval Babylon
Fever hangs on every breath
Save I from the black death
No herb to be found here
Mutton pies and weak beer
A sparrow on a high day
No meat on Friday

Chorus

Pox on the dissolution
Brothers in the revolution
Hard trials for the monk
Him sitting in a funk
Armagideon
It's about as much fun
As sitting on the jakes
Or burning at the stake

(Ohh, ohhh, me ears are alight)

Chorus 

Tudor Reggae

Annual progression of the departed to distant ponds.

Image: http://ilyich.deviantart.com/art/Will-o-wisp-204469380

A winter's night
Cold, dark and dead
Silent as the grave
All good souls abed

A rural nook preserved in time
Bedecked, bejeweled with frost and rime
Ragged tails of creeping fog
Claw thicket, meadow, wood and bog
A note rings out, the still air upon
Lych bell of the old church, long years gone
And all around begins a stir
Of sleeping souls lost o'er the year

An eerie glow within the mist
This no lantern, torch, nor will 'o wisp
Approaches swiftly, true of aim
Gutters not the ghostly flame
Resolves into a spectral guide
Guardian revenant from t'other side
Come to sever earthly bonds 
Shepherd them to distant ponds
Charged that they be safely led
Those massed ranks of Anuran dead
Calls forth with Siren song
The mustered, late amphibious throng

The corpse road empties, distant chimes cease
A final toll leaves all at peace

A winter's night 
Cold, dark and dead
Silent as the grave
All good souls abed

Frog Marched To The Church feat. Mike and the Frog Chorus

I know a girl called Lady Muck
Drove a tractor since she was thirteen
She don't mind spreading muck
She don't mind getting her hands dirty

She don't run in a field of bulls
I love her in her overalls
Me and her in candlelight
I don't the mind the smell of...her perfume
She's Lady Muck

I know a girl called Lady Muck
One day I dreamt that we would marry
A farmer wife that's maybe butch
Soft as muck and twice as slurry

Welly boots upon her feet 
She can eat three shredded wheat 
I'd like to take her for a pint
'Cause I don't mind the smell of...her perfume
She's Lady Muck

I know a girl called Lady Muck
Hers down on the farm bright and early
She looks her best when mucking out
Rose red cheeks and hairs that's curly

She don't run in a field of bulls
I love her in her overalls
Me and her in candlelight
I don't the mind the smell of...her perfume
She's Lady Muck

Lady Muck

He lives at the top of Scotia Road
He's got the complexion of a toad
Doesn't care if he's hot or cowd
He's always okey dokey

He used to be a jack the lad
Had his share of good and bad
Now he's going slightly mad
But he's still okey dokey

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Remembers back when eggs were fried in lard
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Smiling all the while when times are hard

He used to work in a bakery
Until retirement set him free
Now he's deaf and can hardly see
But he's still okey dokey

He'll eat boiled eggs but would rather have fried
A healthy diet he's never tried
Half his friends have gone and died
But he's still okey dokey

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Remembers when he holidayed in Leek
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
He still gets his oats at least twice a week

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Is even more okey dokey than his dad
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
He's forgotten all the reasons to be sad
And remembers all the joy he's ever had

Okey Dokey Blokey (It's Two Notes How Hard Can It Be? Mix)

Starved of daylight stalks the night
An eerie place by candlelight
The rhubarb she rises when the moon shines full
Creaking she’s craving the warm rotten mulch

Chorus:
Well the rhubarb triangle is a nine square mile
Up north near to wakefield and morley, rothwell 
They say they have rhubarb in massive great sheds
It’s just like a scene from the dawn of the veg

Now outsiders do take heed
Here there’s a place where the three points meet
Some say it’s the work of the devil’s hands
But it don’t half taste good in puddings and jams

Chorus

So watch where your ramble may stumble upon
Put a clean pair of underpants and your wellingtons on
They say there is life just beyond the muck pile
As the rhubarb breaks surface of sweetness so vile

Chorus

Rhubarb Triangle (Play You With A Stick Of Rhubarb On That Pitch Mix)



Starved of daylight stalks the night
An eerie place by candlelight
The rhubarb she rises when the moon shines full
Creaking she’s craving the warm rotten mulch

Chorus:
Well the rhubarb triangle is a nine square mile
Up north near to wakefield and morley, rothwell
They say they have rhubarb in massive great sheds
It’s just like a scene from the dawn of the veg

Now outsiders do take heed
Here there’s a place where the three points meet
Some say it’s the work of the devil’s hands
But it don’t half taste good in puddings and jams

Chorus

So watch where your ramble may stumble upon
Put a clean pair of underpants and your wellingtons on
They say there is life just beyond the muck pile
As the rhubarb breaks surface of sweetness so vile

Chorus


Rhubarb Triangle (Edit)

He lives at the top of Scotia Road
He's got the complexion of a toad
Doesn't care if he's hot or cold
He's always okey dokey

He used to be a jack the lad
Had his share of good and bad
Now he's going slightly mad
But he's still okey dokey

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Remembers back when eggs were fried in lard
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Smiling all the while when times are hard

He used to work in a bakery
Until retirement set him free
Now he's deaf and can hardly see
But he's still okey dokey

He'll eat boiled eggs but would rather have fried
A healthy diet he's never tried
Half his friends have gone and died
But he's still okey dokey

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Remembers when he holidayed in Leek
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
He still gets his oats at least twice a week

Oh, the okey dokey blokey
Is even more okey dokey than his dad
Oh, the okey dokey blokey
He's forgotten all the reasons to be sad
And remembers all the joy he's ever had


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