this ending is better than it has any right to be. the seagull call echoing at the end makes this so damn emotional and I'm both impressed and mad at the same time

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHWAHHH WAHHHHHHH AGHH GOD GOD AGHH I EUGHH HELPPP WAHHHHWAHHH

Can we appreciate the Ed and Stede vibes of this so g?

"it's pretty clear to me you'd rather be weaponry" has been stuck in my head for ages, what a line

puppet history

So this Christmas
You wanna get em
Somethin sweet and sentimental

Aren’t you precious
And so thoughtful
So very nice

But lemme pitch you this
Instead of worthless shit
Maybe take the hit
And dip
Into those savings for a little
somethin priceeeeyyyyyyy

Gucci, Rolex, Tiffany
A rare illegal foreign cheese
I’ll buy you shit that’ll make you scream
Make your real life feel like a holiday dream

You want a yacht okay why not
A taxidermied ocelot
Armani, Prada, and Dior
Anything you want, I’ll wrap it up, it’s yours

This Christmas! Gonna spend every DIME
Because the finest gifts are
ONE YOU FIND ON A SHELF

This Christmas! Ain’t wasting my TIME
Tryin to read your mind and make you something myself

(Wailing)
This Christmaaaaaas!

This Christmaaaaaas!

Love on a Shelf

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

British things

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

Prototype Instrument #73 Song - Puppet History Season 6

Hippodrome Song - Puppet History Season 6

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

Gore On The Shore

Puppet History

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