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

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

Making a mummy

The song that plays at the Professor's funeral

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

Window Song - Puppet History Season 5

Cloud Song - Puppet History Season 5

Pope Hat Song - Puppet History Season 6

[Verse]
Vanakam to the rising sun
My battle’s begun
But my heart weighs none
Feet on the earth
I feel her hum
The drum in my chest says the war is won

The blade I carry is my own name
No thirst for glory
No hunger for fame
The wind whispers
The trees bend low
The humble warrior moves with the flow

[Chorus]
I was born to win
Born to fight
With the stars as my shield in the velvet night
I rise
I fall
I rise again
A humble warrior
Unbroken
Amen

[Verse 2]
The sitar sings of the paths I’ve crossed
Lessons learned
Not a moment lost
The river spoke
It carved my creed
Patience in battle
But swift in deed

No crown I wear
No throne I claim
Yet the fire within
It burns the same
The forest roars
The heavens grin
A humble warrior
I was born to win

[Bridge]
When the thunder claps and the shadows dance
I hold my ground
I take my stance
Through dust and storm
I find my way
A humble heart will never stray

rise-unbroken

Horrible Histories - Roman Emperor's Song - Who's Bad

Tell ya what I think it sure is fun
To make people die
You should see how friggin funny ya look
When the lights go outta your eyes

And man I miss that ol Bubonic Plague
What a treat, what a hoot, what a gas!
Seein pigs eat bodies in the street
TBH, it kinda kicked ass

And sure I worked my fingers to the bone
Bodies here, bodies there, bodies everywhere
Lumpy people dropping left and right
The putrid smell of rotting flesh in the air

All good things come to an end
And to be honest, I needed a rest
But I’ll never forget how great it felt
To cash that overtime check

Plague Days (Y.O.D.O.)

Yeah it’s me
That big pile of diamonds
I’m that pricy ice
Oh but I’d look so nice around that neck

Marie Antoinette she didn’t want me
She told me to my face that I was ugly
But I guess in the end I got the upper hand
Because they didn’t cut my head off 

And sure, they hacked me into tiny pieces
A devastating thing for all my nieces
And yes necklaces can have nieces
When they’re anthropomorphic

I was just a pile of jewels
Made Rohan look like a fool
But a fella should know better
Than to trust a simple letter

So I guess if there’s a lesson
To this whole backstabbing mess than
It’s that if you think you know the queen
To make sure that you know the queen

Like, has she ever talked to you?
Or looked at you or smiled at you?
Or even seemed to think of you?
Or met you in the daytime?

Maybe ask her for a license
Or to pose with today’s paper
And if she doesn’t want to
Then my dude I think it ain’t her

Pricy Ice

Human flotsam
Ain’t two words, that ya likely like to see

Oh but a sneaky German U-boat
Left a nasty little present
For the ol’ Britannic and me

Well I’m a propeller
Ain’t a violent feller
Choppin people up
ain’t my scene

Oh but Iceberg Charlie
Put the pedal to the metal
And what happened
Still haunts my dreams

Oh-well-a chop chop chop!
And-a scream scream scream!
Bodies floating in the sea
A-chop chop chop!
And-a scream scream scream!
HOW’D THIS BLOOD GET ALL OVER ME!!!!!

I’m a propeller
An awfully sorry feller
And all I ever wanted was a life of luxury
But World War One it ruined my fun
My life is misery

Propeller's Lament

I’m god
Okay?
I’ve got something to say
Those dummies dancing half to death
That wasn’t me, no way

I made the stars and moon and sun
And also I made everyone
Like Genghis Khan, Celine Dion,
All dogs and cats, fruit bats, your mom

And sure some people worship me
But then I did make everything
Like Jupiter and Tupperware
And Diet Coke and teddy bears

But I didn’t make those people dance 
Oh way back when in olden France
I’m not that guy, that’s not my scene
You think that I would be so mean?

And sure I killed their crops for years
And preyed upon their deepest fears
Of squalor, plague, no food to eat
But dancing? Man, that’s not my beat

Know what, I lied, it’s all on me
I got those dingbats to their feet
Boy they could really jitterbug
But when they died I pulled the plug

So what, big whoop, who cares, come on
It’s not the worst thing that I’ve done!
Like bed bugs, pinkeye, Tampa Florida
And also the rest of Florida

So yeah I made those people dance 
Oh way back when in olden France
I’m sorry I know it was rude
I guess I’m just a zany dude

Didn't Make 'em Dance

Choo choo
I'm a train!
Choo choo
This is the song I sing!
Choo choo
All abooooooard!

Y’know it sucks to be a train
Luggin' normie losers through the cold and the rain
Same path, same track, same route
The monotony’s enough to make a choo choo POUT!

But then one day you catch a break
Gonna take a VIP to the Old Line State
Uh, who me? Yes you. But who?
Well I’ll tell you who-
The soon-to-be president of the
UUUUUUnited states.
They call him honest Abe.
He’s got a funny little beard
And he’s lanky and weird
But he sure knows just the words to say

But then some racist dipshits	
Took out a hit and chose to sit and wait-
For the man they call Abe
And robbed this lonely locomotive of a real exciting day

And then all of my choo choos
Turned into nothin but boohoos!

Boo hoo
Choo
Choo choo
Boo choo hoo hoo
Boo Hoo!
Choo boo hoo
Boo hoo hoo
Choo choo hoo
Boo hoo
Choo choo

Song For Santa

Puppet History

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