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

A stone’s throw west of nowhere
They've got a golden crop they tend to grow there
Well it’s the sweetest treat
a six foot bird could ever eat
We’ll risk our necks
For a couple more pecks
Of your worthless wheat

Put up a fence and try to keep us out
We’ll plow right through it with balletic leaps and bounds
There’s no defense you’re raisin'
That’ll stop us from our grazin'
There's piles of wheat for
Em-you and me!

No pain, no grain
That’s the name of the game
We choose to chew
That’s how emu do
We snack, they attack
We run away then come right back
Try to kill me I dare you
Do it
DO IT

Shoot us,
Pursue us,
You can drive a truck right through us!
Riddle us with bullets
As we stuff our skinny gullets
Pop a slug right in my skull!
But not until my belly’s full
Kill my family, merc my friends
But the buffet will never end

And I commend you blokes for tryin'
But we simply have no fear of dyin’
It’s agricultural plunder
Until we’re six feet down under

One more time for all our dead rotting friends!

Shoot us,
Pursue us,
You can drive a truck right through us,
(No pain, no grain!)
Pump us full of lead
But make sure you aim for our wobbly heads
(We choose to chew)
There's pile of wheat for em-yooou and me!

Six Feet Down Under

Well there ain’t no better way to
Pass the tick tick tickin of the unrelenting march of time
Then flip flip flippin through a book like me
Why don’t ya crack my achin spine
Ya never know
Whatcha gonna find

You can study astrophysics or ontology,
The migratory paths of albacore,
Can even master twenty languages and still have room
For every detail of the Punic Wars
You’d be surprised
Whatcha can fit in your mind

Go on and jot a couple notes about the Tundra stoat
Or the roamin’ of magnetic poles
Or bout how long it’d take a crusty ol Tyrannosaur
To digest your learned body whole :'(
How bout a chapter on the history of cobalt blue,
Or the spores of the Wattieza tree,
Or how ol’ Frank Hayes won a steeplechase
Back in 1923
You’ll never grow just knowin
Whatcha already know  

Read, please
I beg you to appease
Every single little itchin
Curiosity
Cmon n gimme a leaf

Well you can read so much that you can spout
All hundred fifty four of ol’ Bill’s sonnets off the top of your head
And you can read so much the cowards
Of this world will hunt you down and lock you up til they shoot you dead

In any case
It’s nice to be well-read
(BOOKS)

Read, Please

Bah Humbug!

Meteorite Song - Puppet History

Window Song - Puppet History Season 5

Sometimes your life don’t go exactly how you planned
A volcano eats your wife and a witch kills all your friends

And what else can you do
But hop aboard a spaceship with a french fries and a can of soup

You've gotta believe in yourself even if you’re just a hologram
Even if nobody gives a damn

There's not a single plupple gonna stop you cause you got a plan
Travel back in time and murder Pam

And sometimes you get marooned
Didn’t plan on plupples for your honeymoon

And sometimes you get locked up
Sittin in a cell while plupples plup plup plup 

But somewhere deep inside
You know your tasty pals are gonna find a way to save your hide

You've got a love inside your heart it’s burnin' like a fryin' pan
So you’ll keep existin' if you can

Cause it’s a Hot Daga
A juicy little tale about just doin’ the best you can
And it’s got a hundred billion fans

And it’s critically acclaimed

Plupple Honeymoon

Oh well
Comin' outta my shell
Whoever knew that it could feel so swell

Yes sir, today
I’m here to stay
I’m sad that giant plupple passed away

Y’know, in all our lives we go through darkness 
For example I was hypnotized for many, many years and I’m frankly not too happy about it

But soon my troubles passed me by by by
But I’m unburdened and I’m feathery, and this bird is feelin' ready 
To take it to the sky

I wonder why
Those plupples made a king of such a simple guy
You’d think they’d want a ruler, maybe saner and a little cooler
Than a cracked egg with two vacant eyes

[Instrumental break feat. plupple chorus line]

Life in a shell can be hell if you're under a spell
But if ya do your best, I attest your tasty friends will take care of the rest

I once killed* the Pope with my friend Mike Soup
But he was bad so it was rad and now it’s firmly in the past and now I’m ready to fly the coop

Oh shoot
It’s been a hoot
Wish I could hang but, oh gosh dang, I gotta scoot

I think I’ll grab a ride with a holographic corn right by my side
Oh, by the way, I’m Dr. Goondis
So pleased to meet ya
Let's go and find your friends

Outta My Shell

[With special thanks to DJ Tubbs for the backing vocals.]

It’s lookin' like I've had enough
Tried the best I can but I don’t got the stuff
I got shot by the Chili Pope ):

It’s easy livin' as a french fry
I'm critically acclaimed but now it’s time to die
Frankly, life’s been pretty dope

It’s been a long hard road for a french fries and corn to walk down
Who coulda ever known the road would lead to
You and me and Soup and Goondis
Takin' on the galaxy

I know that life is crazy
But believe me, Maizey
You’ll be fine without me here

I mean I’m just a funny french fries
There’s really no need to cry
Even though I’m so revered

Was livin' lonely in a future state
Traveled back in time and met my foodie mates
Most of them were witch holograms

The story gets a little dense from there
But if you got a brain it’s pretty crystal clear
Here check out this diagram

See a wedding fell into a witch volcano
Then we scrammed and then we landed
On the planet on the plupples, etc.

And now we’re travelin' to the past
To save our friends and kick some ass

I know that things seem kinda shitty
And that the odds aren’t lookin' pretty but
What's the point of quittin' now
 
And I won’t be here to see it
But you bet your ass that I believe that
You’ll still save the day somehow

The end is comin', gonna punch my mortal ticket
If I had a fuckin' bucket then I got a hunch I'd kick it
And I’m sorry for the cursin' but I’m
Feelin worse and worse and I don’t...

I don't wanna die.

I know it might sound crazy
But believe me, Maizey
You’ll be fine without me here

And it’s lookin' like this french fry’s gonna
Take his bow in this Hot Daga
I’m dying now, just so we’re clear

I’ll see ya later pals, I’m outta here

It’s been a treat

I think I see Smeech

Meteorite Song - Puppet History

Ezra