The Jazz Butcher Conspiracy : Lyrics : Christmas With The Pygmies

Pat Fish: Christmas dinner in pygmy land
Is a sad affair, as you'll understand:
There's ain't no turkey, there ain't no snow,
Just buffalo.
Owen Jones: Buffalo?
Max Eider: How'd they get here?
Pat Fish: Well, don't ask me.
Just woke up this morning and there they be.
Owen Jones: Don't chase our women, don't rob our trains...
ALL: They just REMAIN.
THE ELEPHANT MEN: HELLO! (sorry...)
Max Eider: The Christmas parties the pygmies throw
Would fit on top of a buffalo.
Pat Fish: The thing being is they not too tall,
In fact they small.
Owen Jones: The decorations are sad to see
Max Eider: 'Coz the buffalo ate the Christmas tree
Owen Jones: Cannot watch Her Majesty
ALL: There's no T.V.
Pat Fish: So the pygmies all sit in a row
Listen to the English radio
Owen Jones: But the only record that's ever played...
SLADE: SO HERE IT IS, MERRY CHRISTMAS.
ALL: WHOOOOA - SWINGING WITH THE PYGMIES.
Max Eider: If this sounds fun to you,
This is what you have to do:
Owen Jones: Just pack your pudding and off you go
ALL: To the Limpopo.
Pat Fish: There you find a pygmy boat
And you wonder how it stays afloat.
I old you before they very small
Not tall at all.
ALL: At all, at all, at all, at all,
At all, at all, not tall at all
Pat Fish: What they resemble quite a lot
ALL: Is Woodentops
Max Eider: So spare a thought for the pygmy clan
Coz the pygmy do what the pygmy can.
Pat Fish: Make sure the Christmas cake you bake
Contains no snake.
ALL: WHOOOOA - swingin' with the pygmies
WHOOOOA - Christmas with the pygmies
WHOOOOA - skinning with the pygmies
WHOOOOA - intellectual pygmies

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