C 'n' C-S Mithering

Three days
 Three months
 Three days
 Three months
 A treatise
 A treatise
 To explain these
 First was cash 'n' carry house dance
 In Lancashire they're A
 In King Nat Ltd. empire
 Kwik Save is there
 The scene started here
 Then was America
 Then was America
 We went there
 Big A&M Herb was there**
 His offices had fresh air
 But his rota was mediocre
 US purge, rock 'n' pop filth
 Their material's filched
 And the secret of their lives
 Is...
 All the English groups
 Act like peasants with free milk
 On a route
 On a route to the loot
 To candy mountain
 Five wacky English proletariat idiots
 Californians always think of sex
 Or think of death
 Five hundred girl deaths
 A Mexico revenge, it's stolen land
 They really get it off on
 "Don't hurt me please"
 Rapist fill the TVs
 And the secret of their lives
 Is S.E.X.
 I have dreams, I can see
 Carloads of negro Nazis
 Like Faust with beards
 Hydrochloric shaved weirds
 (Applause from audience at Cyprus Tavern)
 This was going to be called crap rap fourteen,
 but it's now Stop Mithering.
 The things that drain you off and drive you off the hinge.
 Boils, dirty socks, the ceilings collapse.
 The Sunday morning loud lawn mower,
 the upstairs Jewish girl damn hoovering, with valium cig
 withdrawal.
 She wants communal, fluent flat household.
 I want privacy.
 The bastard dentist doctors surgery,
 Clip, clop, ring, knock, ring
 Stop mithering***
 The estates stick up like stacks
 The estates stick up like stacks
 The residents keep wild dogs
 And on that father's bedroom closet top,
 electric blanket boxes
 Surplus jonnies, demob pictures
 To their children they sing
 Stop mithering
 You think you've got it bad with thin ties,
 miserable songs synthesized, or circles with A in the middle.
 Make joke records, hang out with Gary Bushell,
 Join round table. "I like your single yer great!"
 A circle of low IQ's.
 There are three rules of audience.
 My journalist acquaintances, go soft, go places,
 on record company expenses.
 I lose humor, manners become bog writers, don't know it.
 The smart hedonists, same as last verse, allusions with
 H in electronics, on stage false histrionics,
 Corpse mauling dicks, pose to a good film, him, him
 Stop mithering
 I'm not joining conventional rock band.
 The conventional is experimental, the conventional is now
 experimental,
 And is no way noble, and I'm no chock stock thing.
 So stop mithering.
 Engineers save up for cars.
 I try to let down their tyres with matches to make them molten.
 Ouch! Ouch!
 They say I rip off Johnny Rotten
 They always strike for more pay.
 They say "See yer mate.Yeh... see yer mate"
 To their mothers they sing
 Stop mithering
 Even the drowned penile tissue test.
 He hangs out for sex.
 He enters magazine contest.
 White tan horror in the mirror.
 Spotty exterior hides a spotty interior.
 He's not your enemy.
 He's not your enemy, his name is not Harry.
 The secret of Cash and Carry.