I thought this was Talking Heads for a second 

That start is so good and the rest just keeps getting better I freaking love this song

Shane is genuinely a musical genius and he uses it for a funky show in which a fluffy blue puppet teaches us weird history

The hardest job ever.... Shane's background singers. They have to sing "French heads!" without laughing. "A side of skewered Genevieve" is probably the most underrated line ever. Chomp Chomp Aur Revior

puppet history

Well the winter snow’s-a-fallin and you know your friends are all expecting
gifts oh so unique
And you really better nail it, cause you know that you’ll have failed em if
They’re not knocked off their feet 

You can get em comfy slippers, seasons tickets to the Clippers
A kazoo for playin jolly little tunes
Some nova lox or wooly socks, fancy chocolates in a box
A funny shirt they’ll prolly throw away by June

But if you wanna get em something cool and hip and new
PSST
Give their ass a mummified
Give their ass a mummified
Give their ass a mummified goose!

Can you imagine how they’ll clap
After they tear away the wrapping
And lay eyes upon an ancient dusty bird

Some hollow bones, their very own
to grace a mantle in their home
If I might say, pretty impressively preserved

So listen, hey, this holiday,
I’m not sure what else I can say
But if you really wanna throw em for a loop

You find a goose that went kaputt
Ya wrap it up from beak to foot
And you give their ass a mummified
Give their ass a mummified
Give their ass a mummified
GOOSE
(honk)

Mummified Goose

I used to spend my holidays alone
An anthropomorphic oar, pretty bored
Sittin inside of his home, oh no

But then you met me, and I suggested we
Go on a little holiday trip, really quick
And we went down to the Bahamas for a dip
And we just kept going

Christmas can be every day
When you’re travelin' the world and you’re an oar and you’re gay
We ate tangerines in Tokyo
Then caught a flight to Borneo
And spent a day in Rekjavik
The hot dogs there were pretty sick

Every trip ya take is a gift
When you love the livin' hell out of the one that you’re with
We’ve been to Bangalore
and BogoTA
Had onion rings in Omaha

Got high as hell in Amsterdam
And ate up all our Christmas ham

God damn that was a damn good ham

And now the future that we make is our own
Close your eyes and throw a dart at the map, and that’s that,
Off to destinations unknown
I hope wherever we go has more ham

Travelin’s such a wonderful ride
But it’d be a drag without you here at my side
Why don’t we stop for brunch in Saskatoon
Namibia to see some dunes
Chicago just to peep the bean
And also bone beneath the bean

Antarctica if we’ve got time
I hear that France has decent wine
To London when the tea is served
And maybe skip St. Petersburg

Hey what’s the deal with Idaho?
Like should we bother? I dunno.
Singapore or Bora Bora?
Either, oar, cause I adore ya

Either Oar

This Christmas
My wishlist
Isn’t so much about the gettin
But the hope that I can give

Saint Nicholas
A gift that
Let’s him know how much we love him
If in fact he ever really even lived

Santa Claus, you are magic, but you also maybe weren’t real
And you slapped that guy
Who maybe shit himself to death, look it up
We didn’t cover it
But he allegedly shit himself to death
Here’s a drawing 

Santa Claus!
You saved the pickle boys
And did a bunch of other stuff
And now you’re bones
But even bones deserve some love
So here’s a song
From me to you
Santa Claus

You… you look like you want to sing?
Do you want to sing?

Thanks Professor for that sweet, sweet song
I was a real sourpuss but now I see that I’m wrong

The holiday season’s not the time for holding grudges
It’s a time for giving gifts and eatin cheese and tasty fudges

I’m ol’ Saint Nick and I’m here to say
I used to be a bishop but I’m bones today

Every year I bring joys and toys to kids
But frankly there’s lots of other things I did


Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys
Ain’t ya heard? I saved the pickle boys
Sounds absurd n far fetched but you sure as shit can bet
That Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys

Now what’d I do?
You save the pickle boys
The pickle who?
The pickle boys?
Who killed the butcher too?
Wait did you kill that butcher?

Ladies and gentlemen- recently barreled by a psychotic butcher
But resurrected by the clown prince of Christmas aka ME
PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR
THE PICKLE BOYYYYYS

Song For Santa

Livin in France
Out in le country
A little more limited menu than you see in Paris

Got no filet mignon
Got no boeuf bourguignon
No bouillabaisse or creme brûlée or charcuterie

Ahh but when the pangs of hunger
howling in the gut grow stronger
Fangs come out and then I long to
MUNCH ON THE TERRIFIED FRENCH

French HEADS, I’m eatin’ em nightly
Bon apetite mon frère, no need to heat I’ll eat ‘em rare

French HEADS, season ‘em lightly
A bordelaise for Claire, a pinch of pepper on Pierre

HOWLS

Call me beast
Call me a monster
Just don’t call me late when a tasty young shepherd’s in the meadow alone

Go on and shame me
Ah but ya made me
It’s whatcha get when you’re hangin with a wolf in the quiet low valleys of the ecotone

Ahhh I realize it’s reckless
But this wolfy’s feeling peckish
If you don’t protect your neck it’s
CHOMP CHOMP AU REVOIR! Ha ha ha ha

French heads, they’re oh so yummy
Paprika dusted on Denis, a side of skewered Genevieve

French heads, in my tummy
As for below the neck, no thanks
I’m good
I’ll take the check PLEASE

French Heads

Well I spent a Sunday shopping with my friend the lion tamer
Even though she snogged me nan
Then we popped into a shop 'n' met a baby named Magellan
Who was very, very tan

Magellan sold us boots and then he turned into a spider
Said that life is but a dream
Then he asked us for our emails
And he sent along an e-vite to his uncle’s (35th) sweet sixteen

Ding dang dong
This is the greatest song your pretty ears have surely ever heard
I drank some wine and fell asleep and when I woke I realized my brilliant brain had dreamt up all the words

Magellan’s uncle was a senator from Gary Indiana
Named Elroy Squirt III
He was confused about his nephew being turnt into a spider
So he asked what had occurred

Tried to reply but got distracted when the lion tamer
Put her tongue in Elroy’s left-most ear
Thank the lord me dear old nan weren’t at the party for this man
Because she’d surely shed a tear

Ding dang dong
This is the greatest love song your pretty ears have surely ever heard
Have you ever been regaled with as romantic of a tale as that of Elroy Squirt III
And the lion tamer and Magellan what a story so compellin'
Even if that spiderboy was far too tan

Elroy Squirt III

The song that plays at the Professor's funeral

Puppet History - The Professor's History (Funeral Song)

Hologram Professor Song - Puppet History

Window Song - Puppet History Season 5

Cloud Song - Puppet History Season 5

Hippodrome Song - Puppet History Season 6

snail grrrl...leave a trail in your wake
leave a clue for...the detective in me
worm boy...don't let them use you as bait
Learning is never a mistake... if you have the energy
Forbidden jumpsuit
mail boy says it will arrive safe
slime chemistry and forensics
pleasure will be your only escape


snail grrrl (demo)

DIE WITH MY BOOTS ON is a raw fusion of country grit and metal fury — a tribute to the working hands, the scarred souls, and the stubborn ones who refuse to quit. This isn’t a ballad, it’s a battle cry. It’s sweat, steel, and six strings screaming into the night.

For the dreamers who grind, the workers who bleed, and the fighters who’ll take their last breath standing tall — boots on, head high, never broken.

Turn it up. Break something. Live louder.

DIE WITH MY BOOTS ON

Hatshepsut
She was competent as hell
They tried to wipe her from the books
As far as we can tell

A pharaoh
You should know
She really held it down
Oh just because she kept the peace
She don’t deserve renown?

Hatshepsut
Oh you haven’t heard?
She stepped up and ruled Egypt
And raised Thutmose the Third

A queen
A king
Depends which glyphs you’ve seen
But by and large
She sure took charge
And really nailed the thing

Hatshepsut
A funny claim to fame?
Her husband, dad, and kinda son
They all had the same name!

A pharaoh
Who narrowly
Missed her chance to rule
But luckily the king-to-be
Was tied up with pre-school

Hatshepsut
If you’re still asking whom?
Just show’s a pharaoh’s greatness
Can’t be measured by their tomb

A queen supreme!
Yet surreptitiously interred
I should know, me and my bro
Were mummified with her

Hatshepsut!
Commit the name to memory
Because you see, regrettably
She happens to be dead and we
Can help her out enormously
Particularly spiritually
If every now and the-ish we
Could toss a kindly thought to she
Who nearly became history
Not via Egyptology
But lost for all eternity
Erased though it’s a mystery
Why anyone would possibly
Resort to such vile treachery
And so it’s with respect that we
Remember on occasion
She kicked ass.

Hatshepsut

We were in love once
Oar, weren’t we?
Dipped into the sea
Just you and me
Wading in harmony

We were were in love once
Oar weren’t we
But now I’m a sword you see
Me and Musashi
Boy we make ‘em bleed

I long for the days our heads dunked under waves
How we splashed and we smooched , oh remember?

Well now I’m a blade and the one thing I crave
Is to slash and to swoosh and dismember

We’re meant to be, Oar
Or are we?

Now this samurai’s cuttin me/you down to size
We must be denser than wood to not realize

We just can’t be, Oar
Or can we?

It’s pretty clear to me, you’d rather be weaponry
You’re spillin’ gore on the shore and I’m lost at sea

French Heads

Puppet History

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