The "Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die Rag" started out as a Vietnam War song. But it seems to have taken on a life of its own, getting adapted to all kinds of situations. Here's an assortment of various folks' versions.
Rag Baby Records is now taking submissions of versions of "Fixin'-To-Die Rag" that people have written for a CD of nothing but "Fixin'" parodies of the current world situation. Please send your well performed version on CD along with all credits and information to:
Country Joe McDonald
Fixin'-to-Die
P O Box 7064
Berkeley, CA 94707
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 When the oil crisis hit in the 70s, resulting in tensions with Iran, it seemed natural to dust off the Rag, as in these lyrics by P. Buryk and J. Fulk.
Gimme an "F"! (F!)
Gimme a "U"! (U!)
Gimme an "E"! (E!)
Gimme an "L"! (L!)
What's that spell? (FUEL!)
What's that spell? (FUEL!)
What's that spell? (FUEL!)
What's that spell? (FUEL!)
Well come on people throughout the land
Uncle Sam needs our help again
He's got us all in a traffic jam
All the way to the Arab's land
So park your caddy, flag a bus
"And leave the driving to us!"
Chorus:
And its l, 2, 3, - what are we payin' for?
Don't tell me you don't give a damn.
Sure looks like another schamm!
And it's 5, 6, 7 - get out your roller skates
Yeah! there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee!! the oil tanks are dry!
Now come on Jimmy, don't be slow.
Rationing ain't the way to go!
You come up with a better plan
So I can start my car again
Or someone's head is gonna roll
At the 1980 polls!!
Chorus
The big oil companies in the land
show profit margins - up again!
They say they're really on our side
And the "dollar gallon"'s justified
But you know they won't be happy then
'til the price is "a dollar ten"!
Chorus
So come on people in the land
Rev up those V-8's again!
Don't catch on - Don't hesitate -
"Top your tank" 'til its too late!
And when we're out of petroleum paste
We can run on nuclear waste!
Chorus
Here's another take, with lyrics © 1980 by Kevin Johnson and Jim Rogers.
Well come on all of you big, strong people,
Uncle Sam is going to make you equal
Goin' to send you off to the middle east,
And he don't care if we all want peace
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're goin' to have a whole lot of fun
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three what can we die for,
Don't ask Jimmy he don't understand
He won't tell you it's the gas can
And it's five, six, seven open up the Persian Straits
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee we're all goin' to die
Well come on generals, let's move fast,
Your big chance has come at last
Gotta go out and save that oil,
Else come the summer we're all goin' to boil
And you know our honor can only be saved
If we can drive Cadillacs to our graves
Chorus
Well come on Wall Street don't be slow,
There could be a war and that means gold
Gotta save OPEC and their desert miles
So they can triple their prices with a great big smile
Just hope and pray that when our troops arrive
Iran knows who's on its side
Chorus
Well come on Jimmy and lead the way,
Your plans for war can save the day
Just keep talkin about foreign threats
And domestic problems we'll forget
But don't go countin' your votes too soon,
Cause we may be nuked by noon
Chorus
Well come on moms throughout the land,
Send the kids off to Iran
Now come on dads don't you hesitate,
Send them off before it's too late
Be the first one on your block
To have your girl come home in a box
Chorus
This politically rigorous version comes to us from the UCLA Chapter of the Committee Against Racism.
Come on all you college men
The ruling class needs your help again
Got itself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Iran
Put down your books and pick up a gun
We're gonna have a whole lot of fun.
Chorus
And it's 1, 2, 3, what are we fighting for
More Rockefeller oil
Out there on Persian soil
And it's 5, 6, 7, open up the pearly gates
Don't be drafted by surprise
Get out and organize
Hey Dow Chemical better move fast
Your big chance is here at last
There's good money to be made
Supplying the army with the tools of the trade
If we can't kill 'em with napalm
We'll nuke 'em with the Bomb!
Chorus
Holy men of every faith
We need chaplains at the base
To tell the boys God wants to see
The commies blown to eternity
Let's rape and plunder on foreign soil
To the victor goes the spoils.
Chorus
Hey generals throughout the land
They need your help in Tehran
Deploy those forces - don't hesitate
To grab the oilfields 'fore it's too late
Now's your chance to prove you're strong
Enough to beat the Russians like you did the Viet Cong.
Chorus
Chrysler's got a new bailout plan
Making tanks for Pakistan
We'll need guns that shoot real straight
To kill the Russians we're supposed to hate
If they give us the guns on sale
We'll send 'em the body counts in the mail.
Chorus
Let's send troops to destroy Iran
Like the Russians are doin' to Afghanistan
Hey Mom and Dad - Rocky can't fight alone
Enlist your son - send him far from home
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy brought home in a box.
In case you thought only Commie wimps sang this song, here's a pro-war version. Lyrics copyright © 1980 by David Trout
Give me an I...
Give me an R...
Give me an A...
Give me an N...
What does that spell
SHIT
Repeat
l. Well come all you diplomats don't you feel we got the shaft
All they do is sit and grin as they shove it further in
Don't you think the time has come
To blow them all to Kingdom come
Chorus:
And 1 2 3 what are we waiting for
Don't ask me I don't give a damn
Let's bomb that damn IRAN
And its 5 6 7 open up the Persian gates
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
The Ayatollah's gonna die
2. Well all you countries nameless and poor
Fame and fortune is at your door
Just terrorize and kidnap and put yourself on the map
Just take a lesson from IRAN who's afraid of UNCLE SAM
Chorus
3. It's always in the news it seems
And featured in the magazines
The world had better to bow
IRAN has hit the big time now
Let's drop the bomb and break the spell
And rid the world of their smell
Chorus
4. Now times a wasting so let's move quick
And chop the Ayatollah's neck
Come on generals don't be slow,
Let's send the sucker down below
America has had enough
It's time we called their bluff
Chorus
5. Well hey Iran can't you see
Our country men must be free
We've taken time to negotiate
Now it's time we pull our weight
Close your ears and hide your eyes
And kiss your ass goodbye
Chorus
Speaking of picking fights, here's a fragment we discovered in the newsgroups. It appears that one Alan "Uncle Al" Schwartz took umbrage at being "spammed" with a Christian message, and fired this off:
Come on all you big strong men, God in heaven needs your help again!
Burn your neighbors, kill their kids, build some showers and gas the Yids!
Dump on Muslims, dis the Pope, read the Bible for Putney Swope!
Get on yer knees and start to cry for the neighborhood priest says "die!"
Now it's 1,2,3... what are you praying for?
This naturally annoyed some folks. One asked Uncle Al if he had taken too much LSD in the 60s, and added that most people on the net were too young to remember Country Joe and the Fish, much less Putney Swope. Sigh.
The 80s saw a new kind of war. One of its casualties, Cindy Lauritzen, wrote these lyrics from her current residence at the Arizona State Prison Complex, Perryville.
Now come on DEA let's move fast
Your big chance is here at last
Now you can go out and search and seize
All the drugs and money and cars you please
You know this war can only be won
If you take it all and leave them none!
Hey district attorneys don't be slow
Why man this is war a go go
There's plenty good assets for you to take
Just use your new laws to confiscate
How could you ever win this war
If you couldn't steal it all by forfeiture!
Now come on children learn to say nope
And turn your parents in if they're using dope
Come on kiddies don't hesitate
Turn them all in before its too late
Be the first one of your peers
To see your mom get 5 1/4 years!
Hey U.S. government let's get together and talk
About why it is that I'm in this cell block
And explain to me about your plan-
To imprison all the users in this great land
And please make me believe that getting rid of people like me
Is the way to save society!
Let my mother know that I apologize
For embarrassing her in all her friends eyes
And tell my 4 year old that l love her
And the last thing I wanted was to desert her
But I'm just one of this war's casualties
And hopefully... the next 7 years will pass quickly!
I recently came across this note I jotted to myself.
I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Get-Drunk Rag
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three, what am I drinking for?
Don't ask me I don't give a damn
Just put a drink in my hand.
And it's five, six, seven open up the pearly gates
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee I'm gonna get high.
Well come on all of you
ideas for parodies of the rag as commercials for products
booze cigarettes hamburgers perfume
In 1987 then Governor-elect Evan Mecham nixed Arizona's recognition of the Martin Luther King holiday, and Denny Brewington wrote this, with a little help from me.
Give me an E
Give me an V
Give me an A
Give me an N
What's that spell?
Bigot
Birch fan
Nobody
Come on all you women and men
Arizona needs your help again
Got ourselves in a terrible jam
Like the 60s in Birmingham
So put down your work and pick up the song
Together we'll right this wrong
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three what are we singing for
Just ask me cause I give a damn
About things in our great land
And it's five, six, seven
Tell him that we can't wait
To get together and celebrate
Martin Luther King's birthday
Now come on mothers throughout the land
With Dr. King we'll make a stand
Now come on fathers don't hesitate
We need more love and much less hate
Just hope and pray that if the Birchers wail
They do it in Glendale
Chorus
Don Copeland, a friend who happens to be in real estate, musically described his profession.
Come on all of you Realtors
Ring those phones and hit those doors
There's lots of good houses you can list
Here's a chance that can't be missed
So get off your butts and pick up your pens it's time to go listing again!
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three, what am I listing for?
Make money while I lay by the shore
Won't have to sell no more.
And it's five, six, seven gonna win the listing pool,
I ain't got time to price 'em right
But I'm a listing fool.
Verse 2
I've got a little box that I call my farm
and I move them up from cold to warm
And when I find one that's really hot
I go out and list it on the spot.
I put up a sign that has my name
Then go back to Hawaii again.
Chorus
Verse 3
Come on brokers, don't move slow
Write those ads then show, show, show.
I'll just sit here and collect my split
This listing thing is really it.
Y'know buyers are liars and sellers are worse
But I've got that listing curse.
Chorus
Verse 4
Hey you FSBOs you better resign
And sign right here on the dotted line
I'll bug you 'til your face turns blue
But I'll save you from those "Lookie Lous"
And I know you'll think I'm heaven sent
When you pay that seven percent.
Chorus
Think that's weird? Svenn Owe Haugland, an instructor at the Bergen University Kayak Club, wrote this for his students up there in Norway.
[G7] Well come on all of you big strong men,
[C] Instructor Sam is here again
[G7] Come on sisters don't hesitate
[C] join this course before it's too late
So [F] put down your books and [C] start to [A] run,
cos we're [D7] gonna have a [G7] whole lotta [C] fun
Ref:
And it's [D7] one, two, [G7] three, what are we [C] paddling for,
don't ask me I [G7] don't give a damn, next stop is [C] Zombee land
And it's [D7] five, six, [G7] seven, open up the [C]
pearly gates [C7]
Well there [F] ain't no time to [C] wonder [A] why,
[D7] WHOOPEE we're [G7] all gonna [C] die
Come on all - there's room for more,
this old car took ten before
Drysuits we can leave behind
Wests and helmets - I didn't find
But what the Hell do we need them for
-we're only doing grade IV!
Ref.
Well come on girls it's only grade V
and the fall down there is not THAT high
Come on chicken - let go of that tree!
go underneath - you COULD go free...
And for those that still have an unbroken limb
-I hope you all can swim!
Ref.
In the 80s there was another war to sing about, this time with Iraq. Political cartoonist Steve Benson drew this for the Tacoma Morning News Tribune.
Bill Bradley, a staffer for John Kerry's 1990 Massachusetts senatorial campaign, penned this epic naming just about everyone involved. You might want to fast-forward through this.
1. Come on all you big strong men and women,
John Kerry needs your help again,
He's running to keep his Senate seat;
The campaign 's on and there'll be some heat.
Put down your books, get on the phone,
We're gonna have a whole lot of fun!!
Refrain (That is what Larry Carpman said it is called in 1984)
And it's 1-9-9-0 Election Year.
John Kerry is our man
Not Jimmy or that other guy Dan,
And it's 5-6-7- open up the starting gate,
There ain't no time to sit back now
Whoopee we're all gonna win,
2. In Massachusetts and in D.C.
John Kerry fights for you and me,
He fights the drug lords, and the budget cuts,
John Kerry is a man with guts,
Put on your shoes, pick up the lit,
We're all going door to door.
Refrain
3. For five long years we've all worked hard
To help the people in our own backyard,
And now two want to take it away;
Well let them know--"You made my day."
Get on the horn, raise some dough,
And let's get on with the show,
Refrain
4. North Shore, South Shore, Western Mass;
We got folks who say "just ask,"
Southeast, Worcester Boston town,
JK supporters won't let him down.
Let's go troops, hit the ground,
We're gonna have a whole lot of fun!!!
Refrain
5. "Hi doll" it's Foles on the line,
Penciled note PAF signed,
"Get your marching orders here.
It's going to be a wild and crazy year!!"
Get in early; stay real late,
And have a whole lot of fun!!
Refrain
6. Greels is up and ready to go.
LA ball cap oooh no!!
Doing events ain't new to him.
Give him a minute and a double GM,
Give him a car, mult box, mike,
Relax and enjoy his show.
Refrain
7. Bonnie Cronin is quite the gal,
Cranking out mail to all our "pals."
Dealing with constituency groups
Call her when you need some troops.
She's been on board since day one,
And says "it's been a whole lot of fun!!"
Refrain
8. Jeanette is nice almost all the time;
But if she gets upset, watch her shine.
Helping folks get a place to sleep.
Or buy a home that they can keep,
Chairing ward Nine, or cooking her chicken
That's why she's called The Boss.
Refrain
9. Ask Ness how she's doing she'll say "Just fine,"
Trying to keep the train on time,
Juggling this, juggling that.
On the phone to D.C. with Pat,
If you feel down, talk to Ness,
She's also our mother hen!!
Refrain
10. Marsh goes in and slams her door.
Trouble in El Salvador,
She listens to what they got to say,
She listens in her "diplomatic" way,
She's got a joke, an "eloquent tongue"
And she'll have a whole lot of fun.
Refrain
11. Shaer works hard with the elderly,
Helping them with their Social Security.
In '84 he was the "Viz King,"
Traveling the Stale doing his thing.
Mention to him campaign buttons
And you'll get a seminar.
Refrain
12. Carmen helps the deportee.
When she's not caring for Waverly.
Because her desk is real close,
Sometimes you hear her say "Adios."
Her Latino friends have told her
That they're ready to have fun!!
Refrain
13. Geoff Boehm spends much of his time
working with Vets who did their time,
He did a tour in Vietnam
Just like our boy John.
He told me he's ready to yell,
"Dog Hunters. Fall in line!"
Refrain
14. John DeSimas has the southeast
Under control, that's a relief,
Helping Cape Cod with growth control,
Or keeping the Notch babies under control,
He lives in New Beige and he's heard them say
They wanna have a whole lot of fun.
Refrain
15. Meehan's working on a press release
Telling how John is working for peace
In El Salvador or the Philippines;
Or bringing home the bacon and the beans,
He hasn't had a day off this year
But he says it's been a whole lot of fun.
Refrain
15. Nancy Lo just came on board.
She said "I can tell no one here is bored,"
Working with business and fuel price increase,
Helping a company with an export lease,
She knows her Dim Sum
And says she wants to have fun!!
Refrain
16. Sarah Woodhouse works part time
On the environment--an issue whose time
Has finally come to the front burner,
Earth Day '90 will be a head turner.
She goes to school, then goes to work
And has a whole lot of fun.
Refrain
17. Leiter and all at the Committee
Raising money for John Kerry.
Doing their job in a real tough time,
But don't say PAC that's not our kind,
Pull out your book, fill in the blanks,
Write them a big fat check.
Refrain
18. Marcia, Kristin, Lynn are the glue
That help keep intact this zoo.
Answering phones, typing memos,
Entering data--anything goes,
They are great gals working real hard
And having a hell of a time!!
Refrain
19. Martilla and Kiley and Valleley
Payne and maybe even Rasky,
Working the message real well,
Tabulating numbers that will tell
Who can do the best job in D.C.
We all know it's John Kerry
20. What about the guy who wrote this song,
Many folks could say "He's gone,"
See him rocking back and forth
Puffing a smoke for what it's worth,
He likes Dylan and John Kerry
Talk about great company.
21. We got some good people in D.C.
Working real hard for John Kerry.
Working on bills that help us all,
Holding meetings in the hall
There are a lot of folks too many to name
They'll just have to write their own song
22. As you can see we got the troops
To knock any challenger for a loop
Because this is the USA
Anyone can oppose our own JK
But let them know as they begin
That Kerry and Company will win,
23. So come on all you big strong men and women
John Kerry reeds your help again,
He's running to keep the Senate seat
The campaign 's on and there'll be some heat.
Put down your books, get on the phone,
We're gonna have a whole lot of fun!!
Bill is the business guy. When he turned 50, we threw him a party and Dorothy Moskowitz wrote this.
(spoken)
Gimme a "B"... Gimme a "I"... Gimme a "L"... And gimme another "L"
What's that spell? "Belmont"...What's that spell? "Belmont"...What's that spell? "Belmont!"
(sung)
Come on folks, let's shimmy and shake
Captain Bill's got a birthday cake
Lots of candles
Who keeps count?
Fifty's such a vast amount.
But he looks so young
And acts so strong--
So let's embarrass him with a song
And it's--"Lift your glasses way up high
Belmont's our favorite guy,
But please don't ask us why.
If we sing much more it will make him red--
So let's end the tune, take our bow
And let him eat cake instead."
We wrote this for UNICEF. G.O.B.I. stands for "Growth, Oral rehydration therapy, Breastfeeding, and Immunization." Copyright by Country Joe McDonald, Chuck Woolery and David Firshein
Give me a "G", Give me an "0", Give me a "B", Give me an "I".
What's that spell? What's that spell? What's that spell?
Verse 1
Well come on UNICEF lead the way.
20,000 children need your help today.
Now that they're in a world of hurt,
All the way around this abundant earth.
It's vital work, let's get it done,
Saving kids is a whole lot of fun.
(Chorus)
And it's G, O, B, I, something worth fighting for.
It's time to all give a damn, come on and lend a hand.
And it's growth charts, vaccines and ORT
Well, don't waste time, these only cost a dime.
Whoopee, they don't have to die.
Verse 2
Now come on Wall Street don't be slow
These children are important so go, go, go,
There's plenty of food and medicines made,
To supply the parents with the tools that save.
Let's hope and pray they find out today,
Saving kids is a whole lot of fun.
(Chorus)
Verse 3
Now come on governments, let's move fast
Ending hunger is here at last.
Now you can go out and help those kids
The only good child is one that's fed,
And you know that peace can only be won,
When the kids are all having fun.
(Chorus)
Verse 4
Now come on citizens throughout the land
Let Congress know you give a damn,
Come on, Senators, don't hesitate
Cast your votes. before it's too late,
Be the first generation in the world,
To have healthy boys and girls.
Denny Brewington of the Clinton staff put this together for the '92 campaign. But Bill and Al decided to go with Fleetwood Mac.
Gimme a "V". . . Gimme an "O" . . .Gimme a "T" . . .Gimme an "E"
What's that spell? CLINTON!
What's that spell? AL GORE!
What's that spell? VICTORY FOR JUSTICE!
1. Now come on all you women and men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
George got us in a terrible jam,
Cause his rich friends don't give a damn.
So put down your things and help me note,
Why we're gonna vote.
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three,
What are we voting for?
Just ask me cause I give a damn,
About things in our great land,
And it's five, six, seven,
Before we get to heaven,
Let's get together and have our say;
Vote "Bill and Al" today!
2. Now come on mothers throughout the land,
Send George and Dan to Vietnam.
Come on fathers don't hesitate,
There's still time; it's not too late.
Just hope and pray if he barfs at all,
He barfs on Quayle's golf ball!
Repeat chorus
3. Now down on Jobs Street, things are slow.
It's time for them to go-go.
There's plenty of our money Bush friends have made
From the S&L's and the big oil trades.
You know it's time; there's no more doubt;
Let's throw the bums right out!
Repeat chorus
C.A Littleton, who penned the following in '93, describes it as a 70s anthem kicked into the 90s Soul Wars.
Waco Waltz
Chorus I
And it's one, two, three,
What are we praying for?
Don't ask me I don't give a damn,
Next stop is my ashram
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up those pearly gates
Whoah, ain't no time to question why
Whoopee we all gonna die
Verse I
Drink that Cool-Aid fast's you can
Put on your Nikes like a man
Watch them yuppies as the ran ran ran
Buyin' Roll Royces for Mister Guru man
If you can't think step on inside
Whole lotta folks gonna die
Chorus II
And it's one, two, three,
What am I prayin' for?
Don't ask me I can't spare a damn,
Today's Son-o-God's who I am
And it's five, six, seven,
These's my pearly gates
Plenty of room come run and hide
Wave 'n smile 'n say bye bye
Verse II
Give Jim 'n Tami a thousand bills
Then go home 'n put 'em in your will
For so much money 'n peace o' mind
Y'all get a room that you can't find
If you gotta God no need apply
Yasuh Lord we all here to die
Chorus III
And it's one, two, three,
What are we livin' for?
First it's the fryin' pan
Then straight down to that ol' Satan man
And it's five, six, seven,
Ain't no time to wait
Just board my ship and learn to fly
And then we all gonna die
Verse III
Ever notice how it's us and them?
When the baby Jesus is your best friend
Open up and let your Saviour begin
A tommy gun'll do fine then on in
Ain't no time to piss 'n cry
Uh-oh shit we all gonna die
Chorus IV
And it's one, two, three,
What are we waitin' for?
Don't ask me cause I can't see ahead
'Bout half blind three quarters dead
And it's five, six, seven,
Is there a future there?
First you breathe deep and say your prayers
Sooner or later we all gotta die
Verse IV
Profit for prophet seems only fair
Got me a Sainthood somewhere up there
March with me but mind the glare
Spirits 'n Angels sing think right beware
Ain't no time to fall behind
Plenty-o-pie up in that sky
Repeat Chorus I and end
In honor of the 25th anniversary of Woodstock, the Animaniacs TV show did a Slappy Squirrel episode on the subject. An animated Country Joe sings this parody.
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And it's 2, 4, 6, what am I singing for
Don't ask me I don't give a hoot,
Just pay me lots of loot.
And it's 8, 10, 12, I'm just killing time
My contract says to sing a song
Yeehah! I just made a rhyme.
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In '95 I wrote this for dapper mayoral candidate Willie Brown, whose opponent hadn't helped himself a bit by doing a nude radio interview.
Come on all of you citizens
San Francisco needs your help again
Got itself in a terrible jam
With current mayor Frank Jordan
So go to the polls and pick up a pen
Before Frank Jordan drops his pants again!
And its 1, 2, 3, who are we votin' for?
Willie Brown is our man
Sure as hell ain't Frank Jordan
And it's 5,6,7, don't hesitate
There ain't no time to wonder why
It's the guy in the Brioni suit!
Rien de Waal sent me this hand-made Thanksgiving card from Amsterdam.
We stumbled across this lament on the Web. Song parody lyrics copyright © 1997 by Mark Saxton.
I.R.S. RAG
Come on all you women and men,
Uncle Sam needs your money again.
If the IRS has their way
They'll get your all money on that April day.
Get out your check book and pick up your pen,
Oh taxes are due again.
And it's one, two, three what are we paying for?
Don't ask me I don't understand,
Just take all the deductions you can.
And it's five, six, seven open up a Keogh plan.
You know an audit's on the way
And you're gonna have to pay and pay.
Call an accountant or H&R Block.
Pay Capital Gains on that Microsoft stock.
What's this write off? Where's the receipt?
It's all Breast Enlargement for the Government teat.
Get out your check book and pick up your pen,
Oh taxes are due again.
And it's one, two, three what are we paying for?
Don't ask me I don't understand,
Just take all the deductions you can.
And it's five, six, seven open up a Keogh plan.
You know an audit's on the way
And you're gonna have to pay and pay.
Use Turbotax or file online.
If you're on AOL it could take a long time.
Hide those assets on a Cayman Isle,
And have a good Tax Lawyer at your trial.
Get out your check book and pick up a pen,
Oh taxes are due again.
And it's one, two, three what are we paying for?
Don't ask me I don't understand,
Just take all the deductions you can.
And it's five, six, seven open up a Keogh Plan.
You know an audit's on its way,
And you're gonna have to pay.
JOWazzoo, who heard the original cheer at Woodstock and now describes himself as a "Spam fighter," brings us into the computer age with its new battles. "The Spam Song" lyrics copyright © 1997 JOWazzoo & Very Disturbed Nerds Anonymous.
Give me an S!
(crowd yelling) S!
Give me a P!
(crowd yelling) P!
Give me an A!
(crowd yelling) A!
Give me an M!
(crowd yelling) M!
What's that Spell?
(crowd yelling) Spam!!!
What's that Spell?
(crowd yelling) Spam!!!
What's that Spell?
(crowd yelling) Spam!!!
Well come on all you big strong men,
Uncle Spam needs your help again.
Got himself in a great big jam
Way down yonder in Philly land
Send out your pings, TraceRoutes run
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.
[refrain]
Well it's 1, 2, 3,
What are we fightin for?
Don't ask me I don't give a damn,
Mail box is full of spam.
And it's 5, 6, 7
Open the routers & gateways,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
All the Spammers are gonna fry.
Well, come on Spammers, change ISPs fast;
The big chance is here at last.
And don't let it be said
That a single email box won't be fed
And you know that the spam wars won't be won
Until the Internet has been trashed to kingdom come.
[refrain]
Jeez!
Well, come on Main Street, ya got to know,
Spamford says "we'll Spam you" ho-ho-ho.
Plenty of money can be made
With CyberBomber & NetContact, the tools of the trade,
Hope and pray that if a Spammer sends an email bomb,
It's sent to a forged email address that's wrong.
[refrain]
Well, come on Spammers throughout the land,
Send your Spew - Spam, Spam, Spam.
Come on admins, don't hesitate,
Send the Spam to /dev/null fore it's too late.
Be the first with a new domain block
To keep the fresh crap out of your email box.
[refrain]
Get the spew in your email box,
Post to nana like a fox.
Dig and NSLookUp and Whois too,
Set your name as user@foo.
The court cases show that the Spammers CAN'T win,
When it's all over we'll Finger em again.
[refrain]
In '98, in the middle of a White House sex scandal, Bill Clinton had an Iraq war scare. Kitten@erols.com sent me this.
Yeah, come on all of you, big strong ladies,
Uncle Sam wants your butts in Hades.
He's got himself in a terrible track
Way over yonder in little Iraq
So put down your purses and pick up guns
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.
And it's one, two, three
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a crap,
Next stop is little Iraq,
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! We're all gonna die.
Well, come on Bill Clinton, let's move fast,
Your big chance has come at last.
Gotta go out and get some rag heads
The only good one is the one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Huh!
Why, come on Wall Street, don't move slow
Why man, this war has oil to go.
There's plenty good money to be gotten
By giving the Navy cruise missiles for Saadam
Just hope and pray that if its bombs they drop
The bombs hit a palace in Iraq.
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Well, come on fathers who don't give a crap
Pack your girls off to little Iraq
Come on mothers, don't hesitate,
Send 'em off before it's too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your girl come home in a box.
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Inspired by Kitten's contribution, we decided to have an anti-war song contest. Fortunately the war fizzled, and Jim Karafit's was the only entry.
Well come on all you camouflaged men,
Bill Clinton wants your help again
He got himself caught with a girl in the sack
Now he's trying to turn attention to little Iraq
Get off your computer and pick up a gun
We're gonna have a whole lot of fun
And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for
Don't ask me I don't really know
Guess were trying to save Clinton's ego
And it's five, six, seven, the tanks are rollin' in
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee don't be slow
Come on Navy don't be slow
You can fight too so go go
There's plenty hospitals to be bombed
Just launch the missile and it's gone
Just hope and pray that after the bomb explodes
Your actions aren't exposed
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Well come on Air force you better move fast
Bomb those Iraqis with chemical gas
Now you can make 'em pay
We're gonna take Bagdad today
Just hope and pray when you get home
You don't come down with desert storm syndrome
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Come on Army join the pack
Get your piece of ol' Iraq
Now come on Marines don't hesitate
Send your boys in before it's too late
Be the first soldier on the block
To send Saddam home in a box
And it's one, two, three, etc.
Travis T. Merle has gained fame in Scotland with his one-man show, "Sexual Deviancy and the History of Country Music." This parody is all about British politics and we really don't get it.
Contact Travis T. Merle through Dave Bull, Pitt-Bull Promotions, 89 Hanworth Hse., John Ruskin St., London, SE50XL, Tel. 0171 735 2106.
And it's 1,2,3, what are we fightin for?
Don't ask me I don't give a damn,
Just look what a star I am
And it's 5,6,7, open up the pearly gates
And give 'em a smile and a smooth soundbite,
Give 'em some more gobshite.
Well I was in a band so y'know I'm cool
And I was a headboy at my school,
And a headboy knows how to get to the top,
Y'start at the bottom and y'work y'way up,
Y'find the right bottoms and y'give 'em a kiss
And then it's a piece of piss.
Well we can accommodate a tew tame Trots,
We've even civilised John Prescott
And if you want radical policy,
You shoulda joined the SDP,
We only licked the Tories when
We could lick ass better than them.
Well tough on socialism tough on the cause,
Ditch Clause 4 and believe in Santa Claus
And y'future's as rosy as our emblem
Now we've cut off the roots to strengthen the stem,
With a leader like a thorn sharp and slick,
Put your trust in a prick.
The war in the Balkans unleashed a flood of songs. Scott Lucado's version was outstanding.
I Feel Like They’re Fixin’ to Die
Well come on, all you Americans
The President needs your help again
He got caught taking Chinese dough
So he made a distraction in Kosovo
Let’s load up the bombs
And gas up the planes
When it’s all over, he’ll explain
And it’s one, two, three
What are we bombing for?
Don’t ask me, I never ask why
My stocks have hit a new high
And it’s five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates
Well, there ain’t no need to ask Clinton why
It won’t be Americans who die
So Bill’s picked up a nasty itch
Not for Monica, but Milosevic
"Lies to his people while thousands die"
Which one is the real bad guy?
The story is good, and Willie sounds wiser
But then again so did the Kaiser
And it’s one, two, three
What are we bombing for?
Don’t ask me, I don’t have a clue
TV reports are always true
And it’s five, six, seven
Open up the pearly gates
Well, we can all just watch the show
Where exactly is Kosovo?
So now we’re messing in a civil war
That they’ve fought many times before
Lots of killing, lots of tears
Been going on for three thousand years
But Clinton says, "Let’s stay the course
We just need to add some more force"
And it’s one, two, three
What are we bombing for?
Don’t ask me, I’m going back to sleep
Can’t stay awake worrying about mission creep
And it’s five, six, seven
Open up the pearly gates
Well, there ain’t no need to worry why
Till Americans are starting to die
Read lots more Kosovo-related "Fixin's."
In a burst of creativity, or something, "Dr. Fonzerelli" produced this crazed effusion.
The Protest Cries of MY Generation
I was recently watching the Woodstock documentary video, frankly because I was in serious need of nudity after my housemate gave all of my porn away to unsuspecting trick-or-treaters. Amongst the orgies of drugs, nudity and flagrant disregard for personal hygiene came the epitome of protest cries from the generation that raised them to a new level. Yes, it was the beautiful marriage of lyrics and hokey guitar chords by Country Joe McDonald and The Fish, the
"I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag". The chorus went something like this:
1,2,3 what are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And its 5,6,7 open up the Pearly Gates,
There ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! We're all gonna die.
It made me think, why can't we have a simple 6-line verse that encompasses all of the hopes, fears and gripes that come with living in this tumultuous time, the conclusion to the millennium. My first idea was the following:
1,2,3 what are we reading for?
Put the CD-Rom in the drive,
Open up Windows 95.
And its 5,6,7 all hail Bill Gates,
Why waste our time with education,
Web Porn! We got masturbation.
Then I thought, why not stick with the war theme:
1,2,3 what are we peacekeeping for?
Let all the hotheads go to hell,
I'd make more workin' at Taco Bell.
And its 5,6,7 I'm off to mediate,
A dispute between some guys in East Timor,
Sweet Fuck! I want a real war.
Then I thought, what would it be like to kill someone in war. Would I cry and be regretful, or go crazy and steal their eyeballs and call them my babies. But then I got back on track and thought that protests shouldn't just be limited to people our age, people of all ages should have a voice in this tolerant era.
Kids
1,2,3 I just turned four.
I'm a little hyper, is that a sin?
You just pump me full of Ritalin.
And its 5,6,7 I'm already overweight.
T.V. has wiped my creativity clean.
Hey mom! What does anal rape mean?
Disillusioned Teens
1,2,3 what am I living for?
Nobody understands me,
I can't lose my virginity.
And its 5,6,7 I guess I can masturbate.
With sex on tap and booze and drugs,
Who needs mom's kisses and hugs! .
Senior Citizens
1,2,3 what are we still breathing for?
You kids don't give me any respect,
Where's my social security check.
And its 5,6,7 kill me now I can't wait.
My days consist of game shows and pointless rants,
Whoopee! I just shit my pants!
Middle Agers
1,2,3, I drive a Capris '94
All the kids have moved and gone,
The cruel aging process rages on.
And its 5,6,7, what will be my fate?
Eating bran every day for the rest of my years,
It's the weekend! Off to Sears!
We mislaid the name of the person who wrote this attack on smoking ... tobacco, that is.
Verse 1
Well come on Barbie Come on Ken
Phillip Morris needs your help again
Got himself in a terrible jam
While he's running the smoking scam
Spend lots of dough mess up your lungs
Its gonna be a whole lotta fun
Chorus
And its one two three what are we smoking for
Don't ask me I don't give a damn Its cool to be a Marlboro Man
And it's 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates
Ain't no time to wonder why whoopee were all gonna die
Verse 2
Now come on all you little kids
RJ.Reynolds can't hit the skids
Smokers are dying every day
Keep the game going start smoking today
be the first one on your block to lose your voice box
Chorus 2
And its one two three what are we smoking for
Don't ask my girlfriend she smokes Virginia Slims
And its five six seven open up the pearly gates
Ain't no time to wonder why whoopee were all gonna die
Verse 3
Now Madison Avenue they all know
How to make smoking go-go
Everywhere they advertise
Try the glamorous way to end your life
They don't care if it kills you or your friends
Cause tobacco has the money to spend
(RepeatChorus1)
Verse 5
Spit Tobacco is way cool too
Lose your jaw cause you chew
Cancer cells in just three years Why wait longer to see lesions appear
And you know that its safe and oh so fun
When the doctor cuts out your tongue
(RepeatChorus2)
Jesse Slocum, self-styled "Busker for Freedom," sent this meditation on the millennium saying, "Thank you so much, Country Joe, for encouraging all the rest of us to Rewrite DA WRAG."
When the Wholey HOG Really Flies WRAG
Come on all you human beans
Blacks, browns, yellows, whites, reds, 'n' greens
We're STILL stuck with war in a world gone wrong
Which more than ever requires this here song:
We will NOT get Peace by waving a flag
So, let's stop fighting and Re-write da WRAG!
And it's 1,2,3, what is y2k for?
The big deuce with the triple ZIP!
Isn't THIS year a TRIP?
And it's 5,6,7, why not DRAFT ole Willie...Gates?
Don't just sit there, 'n' sigh 'n' cry!
WHOOPIE!! Time for PIGS to fly!!!
Come on all you boyz 'n' gurlz
And watch this wide world as it whirlz
We find ourSELF in a terrible JAM
And it still really could go WHAM!!
YOU, yourself is where the JUBILEE starts
So, let's all SING, 'n' open up our HEARTS!
And it's 1,2,3...
Come on generals let's move fast
Your big chance has come at last
To help FEED and CLOTHE the world's poor
We don't need to have ANY war ANYmore!
So make plowshares out of all your shields
And help us remove Your MINES from OUR fields!!
And it's 1,2,3...
Come on Wall Street, don't be slow
Look up from your portfolio
Being THERE is like growing roses
This time around Nobody needs to be MOSES
So, mulch in the Fall, and Harrow in the SPRING
Share in the HARVEST as we Sing:
And it's 1,2,3...
Lucinda-June Chapman fires another salvo at the war on drugs.
Now come on DEA don't be late
We've got 70 million to incarcerate
Even if you're a millionaire,
They'll shoot you down, they just don't care.
And if you sell garden supplies
They'll send you to jail with all their lies
Now it's one, two, three
What are we gonna be?
Americans don't need to be free,
Let's bow to tyranny.
And it's five, six, seven
We'll all meet in heaven.
They'll rape, steal, kill and lie.
Whoopie, we're all going to die.
And if you think you'll be debt free,
The Government will arrest your money!
You think you'll get it back?
Just get used to the lack.
And if with drugs you want to play
Just join the CIA.
Kenneth Hitt sang this at a protest rally over the food at Darton College, in Albany, Georgia, and made the papers.
Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Starve Rag
Darton Students, join on in
The Lunchroom needs your help again
Got itself in a terrible mess
And I gotta get somethin off my chest
Put down your books and pick up a fork
We're in desperate need of pork
[chorus]
Well, it's 1, 2, 3
What are we fightin' for
Don't ask me I don't give a damn
We're defending our beef and ham
And it's 5, 6, 7
In a carton or a plate
Well, ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee, we like it baked or fried
Although their burgers ain't got no meat
A new McDonald's would be real sweet
Krispy Kreme has a wonderful smell
And "Yo quiero Taco Bell"
KFC or Chick-Fil-A
I'd vote either way
[chorus]
A Burger King would be so nice
At this point a Wendy's would even suffice
Come on, now, don't hesitate
Give us fast food before it's too late
Be the first one on your block
To get diseased at Jack-In-The-Box
[chorus]
Psychic Linda J. Polley of Fargo, ND received this composition on heavenly matters from the spirit of John Lennon.
It's Heaven that We're Fighting For
By: John Lennon
Channeled Through : Linda J. Polley
All rights reserved.
(Chorus)
Well, it's 1, 2, 3!
It's Heaven that we're fighting for!
We don't really want a war,
Tell me what are we fighting for?
Well, it's 1, 2, 3!
It's Heaven that we're fighting for,
we don't really want a war,
But it's Heaven that we're fighting for.
1. Well, it's 1, 2, 3!
Do people really give a damn?
Do they care about their fellow man?
Do they really want to understand?
2 Well it's 1, 2, 3!
Everyone across the land
Needs to try and understand,
And give us all a helping hand.
3. Well, it's 1, 2, 3!
Let's not let the Darkness win!
Come on and let the Light shine in,
I'm gonna say it all again.
4. Well, it's 1, 2, 3!
The world is what we're fighting for!
Heaven, and, a whole lot more!
It's everything we're fighting for.
(Repeat Chorus To End.)
Bill Buckels of Winnepeg wrote this for his hepatitis newsgroup (sci.med.diseases.hepatitis).
The Hep Cheer & I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-My-Hep Rag
Gimme an H!
Gimme an E!
Gimme an P!
What's that spell ? HOPE (HELL)
What's that spell ? HOPE (HELL)
What's that spell ? HOPE (HELL)
Yeah, come on all of you, big sick men,
While your Uncle Sam kicks your ass again.
You got yourself in a terrible jam
When you brought your hep back from Vietnam
So lose all your money and your health as well,
You're gonna have a whole lotta hell.
And it's one, two, three,
What are we suffering for?
We want our dignity,
And to be Virus-Free ;
And it's five, six, seven,
Close down the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no cure for us to buy,
But we'll be damned if you're gonna let us die!
Well, come on doctors, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Gotta go out and tell those Heppers -
The only good virus is the one who's dead
But you know that a cure can never be sold
Until existing treatments are 5 years old,
And it's one, two, three,
What are we suffering for?
We want our dignity,
And to be Virus-Free ;
And it's five, six, seven,
Close down the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no cure for us to buy,
But we'll be damned if you're gonna let us die!
Huh!
Well, come on Wall Street, don't move slow,
Why man, this is Hepatitis au-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Doctors with the drugs of the trade,
Just hope and pray that if they find the cure (bomb),
They don't hold it back too long!
And it's one, two, three,
What are we suffering for?
We want our dignity,
And to be Virus-Free ;
And it's five, six, seven,
Close down the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no cure for us to buy,
But we'll be damned if you're gonna let us die!
Well, come on children throughout the land,
Make sure your parents got medical plans .
Come on sons, don't hesitate,
Make them pay-up before it's too late.
Or be the next one on your block
To lose your house and have to live in a box.
And it's one, two, three,
What are we suffering for?
We want our dignity,
And to be Virus-Free ;
And it's five, six, seven,
Close down the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no cure for us to buy,
But we'll be damned if you're gonna let us die!
A comment by Jason Sykes on the 2000 presidential un-election.
The Election-I'm-Fixin'-To-Buy Rag
Now c'mon Kathleen Harris, friend
Your boss Jeb needs your help again
Even if it makes you shiver
Florida's HIS state, you must deliver
So stop the counting once Dubya's won
Now we're gonna have a whole lot of fun
And it's One, Two, Three
Who are you voting for?
Whatever it don't mean a damn
'Specially if you're black, poor, or Mexican
And it's Five, Six, Seven
Hurry up and incorporate
There ain't no time to wonder why --
Whoopee! Got a democracy to buy
Now c'mon Wall Street don't be slow
This is tax dodge a go go
There's plenty of profit to be sewn
Supplying the Parties with those short-term "loans"
So while social spending just might get cut
Corporate welfare's something they'll never gut
And it's One, Two, Three
Who are you voting for?
Whatever it don't mean a damn
Democrat or Republican
And it's Five, Six, Seven
Hurry up and incorporate
There ain't no time to wonder why --
Whoopee! Got a democracy to buy
So c'mon PAC's now let's move fast
You're big chance is here at last!
Now you can go out and spend a lot
'Cause the only good Congressman is one who's bought
And special interest laws can only pass
When the rest of us take it up the ass
And it's One, Two, Three
Who are we voting for?
Whatever it don't mean a damn
Might as well be the Son of Sam
And it's Five, Six, Seven
Hurry up and incorporate
There ain't no time to wonder why --
Whoopee! Got a democracy to buy
Now just be patient and understand
There's a dollar sign on ol' Uncle $am
Cause money is speech and speech is money
And the pundits think it's too damn funny
So be the first one on your block
To have your voting rights soldout to Fox
And it's One, Two, Three
What are we voting for?
Don't ask us, we don' give a damn
We know this whole thing's a sham
And it's Five, Six, Seven
Hurry up and incorporate
There ain't no time to wonder why --
Whoopee! Got a democracy to buy
Gary Giacomo came up with this one when a botched deregulation plan in California led to electricity shortages in early 2001. Copyright 2001 Gary Giacomo.
Fixin' to Go Dark in California Rag
Gather round children
And hear this plan,
What's going on in the Golden Land?
There's no power, there's no lights,
But Governor Davis says it will be all right
One, two, three four,
What are we conserving for?
Don't ask me I don't understand
But it's hot and dark in the promised land,
And it's five, six, seven, what is the governor's rhyme?
To stand tall at re-election time!
So get out your checkbook and pick up your pen
Oh the power bill's due again!
Up at the capitol in Sacramento,
It was a unanimous passage,
That gave us this deregulation sausage,
So unplug the toaster and shut off that fan,
Welcome to the promised land!
One, two, three, four …
Now the liberals are saying conserve the juice,
Conservatives are saying let's give production a boost,
Meanwhile the governor is spending a bundle,
To keep the lights lit and him out of trouble,
One, two, three, four...
On the day that the PUC raised the rates
Gov. Davis was out of the place,
He went to Palm Springs and hit the links,
Raised a bundle of cash
Do you think this stinks?
One, two, three, four…
Now governor Davis is surely the Prince of Darkness,
Everybody saves -- that's his mantra
I won't raise your rates, at least not today
Why re-election time is still a year away!
One, two, three, four…
So c'mon utility lobbyists let's move fast!
Your big chance is here at last,
You can go out and spend a lot,
Cause the only good politician is one who bought!
One, two, three, four…
This version as it might have been sung by Germans at the dawn of World War II is the product of a raving loony creative genius named Peter McKeever.
Kommen alle Schutzstaffelsmänner
Umklammern das Hakenkreuzbanner
Von Finnland bis zum Schwarzen Meer
Führer befiehl, wir folgen dir
Siehst du im Osten das Morgenrot?
Zusammen ob lebend, ob tot.
(Chorus)
Und ja Eins, Zwei, Drei.
Warum kämpfen
WIR?
Ich weiss nicht, fragen sie nicht gerade
Wir fahren nach Stalingrad.
Und Fünf, Sechs, Sieben,
Stehen vor der Himmels-MACHT
Wenig Gelegenheit zu erklären.
Wir werden alle sterben
Kom' Wehrmacht, gibt es kein Zurück
Flamme Empor! Heilige Glut!
Die Rote Front schlagt sie entzwei
Der Sieg wird immer unser sein!
Wir singen laut ein Friedenslied
Leider hört man Totalkrieg!
(Chorus)
Und ja Eins, Zwei, Drei.
Warum kämpfen
WIR?
Ich weiss nicht, fragen sie nicht gerade
Wir fahren nach Stalingrad.
Und Fünf, Sechs, Sieben,
Stehen vor der Himmels-MACHT
Wenig Gelegenheit zu erklären.
Wir werden alle sterben
Kom' Industrie, all' schon bereit
Im Osten Ihr Gelegenheit
Dort muss es entschieden sein
Kraft Durch Freude, Arbeit Macht Frei
Die Arbeitslosen kommen mit
Von Belsen zu Auschwitz
(Chorus)
Und ja Eins, Zwei, Drei.
Warum kämpfen
WIR?
Ich weiss nicht, fragen sie nicht gerade
Wir fahren nach Stalingrad.
Und Fünf, Sechs, Sieben,
Stehen vor der Himmels-MACHT
Wenig Gelegenheit zu erklären.
Wir werden alle sterben
Kom' Mutter, die Familie ist gross
Vier Souml;hne sterben, was ist los?
Kom' Vater, keine Töchter leben
Zum Rotfrontlust leider gegeben
'Sieg Heil, Viktoria!' das Ziel,
Veilleicht 'Das Kindertotenlied'
(Chorus)
Und ja Eins, Zwei, Drei.
Warum kämpfen
WIR?
Ich weiss nicht, fragen sie nicht gerade
Wir fahren nach Stalingrad.
Und Fünf, Sechs, Sieben,
Stehen vor der Himmels-MACHT
Wenig Gelegenheit zu erklären.
Wir werden alle sterben
|
Come on, all of you SS men
Swastika banner clasped in hand
From Finland to the Black Sea shallows
Lead on, Fuhrer, we'll blindly follow
See the dawn on the eastern skyline
Together living or dying
(Chorus)
And it's One, Two, Three,
What are we fighting
FOUR?
Don't ask, it's blatantly bad
We're heading for Stalingrad
And it's Five, Six, Seven,
Stand before celestial fates
There's little time to explain why
We're all going to die
Come on, generals, no turning back
The flames rise up, the embers crack
We'll smash the Eastern Front apart
Victory is always ours
A song of peace adorns the score
But all we hear is 'Total War'
(Chorus)
And it's One, Two, Three,
What are we fighting
FOUR?
Don't ask, it's blatantly bad
We're heading for Stalingrad
And it's Five, Six, Seven,
Stand before celestial fates
There's little time to explain why
We're all going to die
Come on, Industry, here's your chance
An eastern Free Market death dance
A de-cisive economic spree
Strength Through Joy, Work Makes You Free
The unemployed will all enlist
From Belsen to Auschwitz
(Chorus)
And it's One, Two, Three,
What are we fighting
FOUR?
Don't ask, it's blatantly bad
We're heading for Stalingrad
And it's Five, Six, Seven,
Stand before celestial fates
There's little time to explain why
We're all going to die
Come on mother, the family swells
Four sons dead, well what the hell?
Come on father, daughters prostrate
The Russian Bear is at the gate
A 'Sieg Heil, Viktoria' ideal
Or just the 'Kindertotenlied'?
(Chorus)
And it's One, Two, Three,
What are we fighting
FOUR?
Don't ask, it's blatantly bad
We're heading for Stalingrad
And it's Five, Six, Seven,
Stand before celestial fates
There's little time to explain why
We're all going to die
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Maths Pedersson wrote this one about the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and its struggle against online music sharing.
The RIAA Song
Music: I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die-Rag, Country Joe McDonald
Lyrics: Mathsped © 2002 All rights reserved
Two, three, four.
Well, come on all of you, great hacker teams
The RIAA needs your help it seems
Yeah, they've got themselves a mission Oh boy !
To go out and search and destroy
So turn on your screens and hit on the keys
Just make sure you leave no witnesses
And it's one, two, three,
What are we hacking for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is the P2P's
And it's five, six, seven
Open up those TCP/IP's
Well, there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! They're all going down
Yeah, come on Wall Street, don't be slow
Why man, this is money in your paw
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the RIAA with the tools of its trade
But just hope and pray that if they do the deed
They don't hit Mrs. Hillary
And it's one, two, three,
What are we hacking for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn
Next stop is the MP3's
And it's five, six, seven
Open up those TCP/IP's
Well, there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! They're all going down
Well, come on Senators, let's move fast
Your big fat chance has come at last
Now you can go get the punks throughout the land
Let the RIAA grease your hand
And you know that money will be sent up to the hill
When you've passed that stupid bill
And it's one, two, three
What are we hacking for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn
Next stop is the MP3
And it's five, six, seven
They make Britney's life a misery
Well, there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! They're all going down
Come on mothers throughout the land
Pack your boys off to hacker land
Come on fathers, and don't hesitate
To send your daughters off before it's too late
And you can be the first ones on your block
To have them behind bars with a solid lock
And it's one, two, three,
What are we hacking for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is the MP3
And it's five, six, seven,
They got them all illegally
Well, there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! They're all going down.
Leslie Frederick, a singer/songwriter from Detroit, is recording this one about fueling your SUV with methane.
Give me an F
Give me an A
Give me an R
Give me a T
What’s that smell? What’s that smell? What’s that smell? What’s that smell?
Now come on all of you big strong men
Uncle sam needs your help again
Got himself in a terrible jam
Over a barrel in the desert, man
So pack your bags with beans for lunch
Cuz ya know we got a whole lot to munch
And it’s 1-2-3 what are we fartin for?
I’m stuck in this traffic jam
There goes my savings plan
And it’s 5-6-7 get the combination plate
Yeah there’s a big long line at the Exxon sign
alt... (or get in line at the Exxon sign)
Whoopee we all want to drive
Well get the gas can gotta move fast
Our big chance is here at last
Gotta bottle this methane store
Cuz the only good truck is a 4 x 4
And ya know that peace can only be won
When the Saudi kingdom is done
Chorus
The guys on Wall Street just don’t know
With enough beans we can go-go
There’s lots of high octane gas to be made
By supplyin the public with the beans they crave
Just hope and pray when you let out the bomb
Your container was built really strong
Chorus
Well come on mothers thru out the land
Pack those lunches with beans and spam
Come on fathers, don’t hesitate
Bottle up what you just ate
Be the first one on your block
To get yourself outta hock
Vet2vet penned this version when relations between Israel and Lebanon heated up again.
1:
Come on all of you big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He’s havin’ himself a real bad time
Way down yonder in Palestine So put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.
Chorus:
And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop will be Iran;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
2:
Come on Georgie, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Blast those Arabs in their beds —
The only good Moslem is one that's dead
You know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.
[Chorus]
3:
Come on Rumsfeld, don't move slow,
Why man, this is war a-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
Sendin’ Tel Aviv the tools of the trade,
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
They drop it on Lebanon
[Chorus]
4.
Come on mothers throughout the land,
Send your boys off to screw Iran.
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
Pull on the khaki before it's too late.
Be the first mum on your block
To have your boys come home in a box.
Here's a version for jihadists.
Jihad, We're All Gonna Die
By Country Joe McDonald and the Leopards
Yeah, come on all of you Muslim men, Cousin Osama needs your help again.
He's got himself in a terrible jam Stuck in a cave in Afghanistan
So put down your books and strap on a bomb, Blow ‘em all to kingdom come.
And it's one, two, three, What are we fighting for ?
Fundamentalism in Islam Kill as many people as you can;
And it's five, six, seven, Heading up to Paradise,
Well, martyrs for Islam , let's move fast; Your big chance has come at last.
Gotta show ‘em all, get it into their heads ---
The only good Westerner is one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.
Well, come on Tehran, don't move slow, Why man, this is war au-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of the trade,
Don’t matter what line George Bush sells, He’s after our oil wells.
Well, come on followers of Islam Join your brothers and make a stand
Abu - Hamza just can’t wait - He’ll Send 'em off before it's too late.
Be the first one around your way To have your boy in Guantanamo Bay.
When a new round of saber-rattling against Iran started in 2006, Ruth Hull wrote,
"I don't know why, but lately I've had the 'Fixin' to Die Rag' running through my head."
Feel Like I'm Fixing to Die Rag (Next Stop Will be I-ran)
Come on all of you Righteous folks
Uncle Sam needs your help and that's no joke
he's got himself in a terrible jam
way over yonder there by I-ran
put down your Books and pick up a gun
we're gonna have a whole lot of fun
(CHORUS)
And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for
don't ask me I don't give a damn, next stop will be I-ran
And it's five, six seven open up the pearly gates
ain't no time to wonder why, whoopee we're all gonna die
Come on generals, stay the course
knock those terrorists out with force
we really gave 'em a terrible smack
when we went in and trashed Saddam's I-rack
you know that peace can only be won
when we've blown 'em all to kingdom come
Come on Wall Street don't be slow
oil is up 'cause supply is low
there's plenty good money to be made
by supplying the army with tools of the trade
let's hope and pray that if they drop the bomb
they drop it on Teheran
Come on parents all over the land
we need your kids for our half-baked plan
if there's not enough kids, why we'll take you
and all of your brothers and sisters, too
don't be the last on your cul-de-sac
to get blown away in I-rack
Suzzanne Monk, who describes herself as a "comedian and pundit," accompanies herself on the banjo when she sings this. You can watch her on YouTube.
The "Feel Like My Tank's Going Dry" Rag
Gimme a 'C'
Gimme a 'U'
Gimme an 'N'
Gimme a 'T'
What's that spell? CUNT!
What's that spell? CUNT!
What's that spell? CUNT!
What's that spell? CUNT!
Hey there all of you guys and gals,
Lets dish out some money to George and his pals.
The War on Terror's raised the price of oil,
And to the victor then go the spoils.
The Bush Administration's laughing to the bank
While I'm starvin' just to fill my tank.
CHORUS
Cuz it's one, two, three dollars a gallon or more.
They got the apple and we got the core.
Where's the oil we're fightin for.
And it's five, six, seven years, don't hesitate.
Tell your congressman there's no debate
Impeach, 'cuz the world can't wait.
VERSE 2
Now little Georgie wants to be like his dad,
So he marched the troups straight into old Baghdad.
Insurgency is growing there everyday,
'Cuz they think Uncle Sam hates the Muslim way.
But it ain't 'bout religion, and it ain't about God.
I'ts 'bout the oil underneath their sod.
CHORUS
VERSE 3
Now if you've got some money and you're upperclass,
Then you put your dollars into oil and gas.
And send you're wife out on a shopping spree,
'Cuz all the soccer moms are drivin' SUV's
Don't worry bout supply 'cuz George's got a plan.
He'll just go ahead invade Iran.
CHORUS
VERSE 4
Hey now all of you college lads,
Cost of tuition got you feelin' sad?
Army recruiter's got a hell of a plan.
He'll ship you to Iraq to work for Uncle Sam.
When you get back you'll have the G.I. Bill,
But it looks like you never will.
CHORUS
VERSE 5
So if you love America, then join the pack,
And send your son or daughter to Iraq.
We're spreading democracy throughout the land.
And don't forget the oil underneath their sand.
Occupation is a beautiful thing,
Can't you hear the bells of freedom ring?
CHORUS (version 2)
Cuz it's one, two, three dollars a gallon or more.
George Bush, you big oil whore.
Where's the oil we're fightin for.
And it's five, six, seven years, don't hesitate.
Tell your congressman there's no debate
Impeach, 'cuz the world can't wait.
CHORUS (version 3)
Cuz it's one, two, three dollars a gallon or more.
Don't blame me, I voted for Gore.
Where's the oil we're fightin for.
And it's five, six, seven years, don't hesitate.
Tell your congressman there's no debate
Impeach, 'cuz the world can't wait.
(shouted)
George Bush is a CUNT!
I picked a side in the 2008 election. Fortunately, the Rag worked better for Obama than it did for the Vietnam War.
I'm Fixin' to Vote for Obama Rag
Gimme me an O! Gimme a B! Gimme an A! Gimme a M! Gimme an A!
What’s that spell? Obama!
Come on all you women and men
Uncle Sam needs your help again
He’s got himself in a terrible jam
Right down here in our land
So put down your books and pick up a pen
It is voting time again
And it’s 1, 2, 3, who are we voting for?
Ask me 'cause I give a damn
Obama is our man!
And it’s 5, 6, 7, don’t hesitate
There ain’t no time to wonder why
Obama is the guy!
Come on mothers throughout the land
It’s time to vote again
Come on fathers don’t hesitate
Cast your vote before it’s too late
Be the first ones on your block
To put your X in the box ... for Obama
And it’s 1, 2, 3, who are we voting for?
Ask me 'cause I give a damn
Obama is our man!
And it’s 5, 6, 7, don’t hesitate
There ain’t no time to wonder why
Obama is the guy!
Looks like the Rag is going to keep stirring things up on into the new millennium.
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