Pere Ubu Lyrics
"Long Live Père Ubu!"
(2009)
Song Of The Grocery Police
Mère Ubu
Are you content with your lot?
Are you content with your lot?
Père Ubu
Woman, I am content -
a Captain of Dragoons,
King Venceslas' right hand man,
decorated with the Order of the Red Eagle of Poland, retired King of Aragon.
I could be happy with so much less.
Mère Ubu
You deserve the Crown of Poland.
Take it all, take it all.
Take it all. Have a ball.
Père Ubu
Woman, the king is very much alive
and he has many children.
He will squeeze my noodle in a noodle vise
til green snot splatters the king's pink shoes.
Mère Ubu
You deserve the Crown of Poland.
Kill them all, kill them all.
Kill them all. Have a ball.
Père Ubu
If I were king I'd have a big sombrero,
like I had in Aragon,
which those louts the Spaniards
stole from me so shamefully.
Mère Ubu
You could have a big sombrero.
Père Ubu
Will I yield to temptation?
Mère Ubu
And a great big cloak
that would keep your feet afloat.
Père Ubu
I'd be a rat if I did that.
Mère Ubu
You could have a big sombrero.
Still, I reckon I've shaken him all the same.
Writers: Moliné - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex, licensed to Fire Songs.
Banquet Of The Butchers
Mère Ubu
Soupe Polonaise. Wombat ribs.
Veal. Chicken. Dog pie.
Pope's nose of turkey. Charlotte russe.
Ice pudding. Salad. Fruit. Boiled beef.
Artichoke a la merdre.
Cauliflower a la merdre.
Père Ubu
What! Do you think that I am the Emperor of Fancy Land
that you spend such a lot!?
Come, let's eat to my fill
as we plot how to kill
the king and his heirs,
cutting them half into squares...
cutting them half into squares.
boiling them under the stairs.
My good friends, it's time to decide
on our plot for this regicide.
Cpt. Ordura
Let's hear everyone's views.
Père Ubu
We should poison the King
with a turd in his lunch.
He'll fall down dead
when he starts in to munch,
and I will be King.
Palcontents
Pooh, what a vile thing!
Cpt. Ordura
I think we should give him a terrible blow
that splits him open from head unto toe,
with a sword.
All
That's noble, gallant, refined and savant.
Palcontents
What if he kicks you,
because on review he wears great iron-clad shoes
that hurt very much
and leave a great stain?
Père Ubu
If I had any sense
I'd denounce you myself,
get out of this mess
and get me some cash for my pain.
All
Traitor, coward, villainous skunk!
Palcontents
Down with Père Ubu the hideous punk.
He's dirty, stupid, a piteous drunk.
All
Traitor, coward, villainous skunk!
Cpt. Ordura
I think it'd be good
in the way that we should
throw ourselves on him all at once,
bawling and shouting,
calling and clouting.
Père Ubu
Then it's agreed.
I'll tread on his toes.
He'll kick out at me.
"Merdre!" I bellow
and into the fray you will fly,
into the fray you will fly. And then I will be King.
Writers: Moliné - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex, licensed to Fire Songs.
March Of Greed
Mère Ubu
Well, you've killed King Venceslas.
What a shambles of a day!
And you flattened nearly all his family
in your haste to run away
from the fight.
But you wear the Crown of Poland.
Cpt. Ordura and The Palcontents
Long live Père Ubu!
Mère Ubu
You'll wear the Big Sombrero.
Cpt. Ordura and The Palcontents
Long live Père Ubu!
Mère Ubu
And now it is the time time time to play the part of Nero.
Père Ubu
What!?
Do you want to ruin me for these pig-bladdered buffoons
that I rule?
Cpt. Ordura
Don't you see the people are waiting for the gift of the
joyous accession?
Mère Ubu
If you don't hand over some meat and gold you'll be
thrown out on your big ass in a few hours.
Père Ubu
Meat, yes, Gold, no.
Kill a few old donkeys -
it's good enough for asses.
Mère Ubu
If you're stupid with your handout they'll moan about the
taxes.
Père Ubu
Is that true!?
Cpt. Ordura
Of course it is.
Père Ubu
Then I'll agree to anything.
Narrator
Mère and Père Ubu and Cpt. Ordura go out
onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard of the palace,
which is full of people.
Père Ubu
I agree to everything!
The Crowd
Hurray for Père Ubu!
Père Ubu
I agree to everything.
The Crowd
Long Live Père Ubu!
Père Ubu
I agree to everything.
The Crowd
Hurray for Père Ubu!
Père Ubu
I'll agree to anything!
The Crowd
Long Live Père Ubu!
Narrator
Père Ubu throws coins, tokens, forms, pamphlets, lottery tickets,
and small pieces of official-looking paper into the crowd.
Père Ubu
Promise that you'll pay the taxes.
The Crowd
Yes, we will!
Père Ubu
Promise that you'll pay the taxes.
The Crowd
Yes, we will!
Cpt. Ordura
Look, Mère Ubu, how they scramble all over each other,
grabbing up everything in sight.
Mère Ubu
Oh, it's horrible.
Pooh! There's one with his skull split open.
Père Ubu
What a wonderful sight.
Bring me more.
Cpt. Ordura
Let's get them to race each other.
Père Ubu
What a splendid idea.
The Crowd
Long Live Père Ubu!
He's father to us all.
Père Ubu
I agree to everything!
Repeat call and response chorus as Mère Ubu engages in faux-operatic vocal flights.
Writers: Moliné - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex, licensed to Fire Songs.
Big Sombrero (Love Theme)
Père Ubu
Bring me the shtttrr Hook.
Bring me the Phynanc=e Book.
Wheel in the Privy Pig-Pinching Bin.
Now, bring all of the Nobles in.
The Nobles
Horrors! Help us!
People and soldiers.
This man is insane
And grows ever bolder.
Père Ubu
What are your titles?
What are your sins?
I'll show you mercy
If you'll jump in the bin.
People want a sinner
Who loves to confess
Who leaps to his fate
And won't make a mess.
= Mère Ubu
You are too harsh
Your ferocity vile.
People want a king
Who rules with a smile.
Tickle their ears
Sweet nothings they adore.
Ubu. My vileness
Don't be a bore.
Père Ubu
Hand me my Imperial Crook.
Hand over the Phynance Book.
Flush out the Privy Pig-Pinching Bin.
Now, bring all of the Judges in.
The Judges
Horrors! Help us!
People and soldiers.
This man is insane
And grows ever bolder.
Père Ubu
All of you Judges take heed.
I've got laws to make.
We must tax the dead
But not let the living wait.
I have plans for the weather
That cannot be delayed.
Into the Pig-Pincher
All of you who will not be swayed.
Mère Ubu
You are too harsh
Your ferocity vile.
People want a king
Who rules with a smile.
Tickle their ears
Sweet nothings they adore.
Ubu, My vileness
Don't be a bore.
Père Ubu
My sweet Pig Bucket
Make no mistake.
I will not bend.
I can only break.
Writers: Moliné - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex, licensed to Fire Songs.
Bring Me The Head
Mère Ubu Now that he's made himself king Père Ubu means to change every thing. No more justice. Finance or law. Into his belly he has gobbled them all. The great and good are sheep cowering. With one voice they cry, We won't agree to anything. That's not Père Ubu's Law. That's not Père Ubu's Law. He won't listen to me but he listens to you all.Père Ubu I agree to everything!
Mère Ubu Why have you done this to me? What have you made me become? A good wife I meant to be. Take care, I counseled until I was numb. Tickle their ears saying life will be fair. He pulls on my titties. He yanks out my hair. That's not Père Ubu's fault. That's not Père Ubu's fault. He won't listen to me but he listens to you all.
Père Ubu I'll agree to anything!
Mère Ubu I'm a victim of fate that's true. He beats on me. Cheats on me. Makes me wear shoes. You people sneer and show me no pity. He makes me wear shoes and and makes me feel shitty. My mercy is such I do not complain. I bear it with grace. All your vile thankless pain. That's not Père Ubu's flaw. That's not Père Ubu's flaw. He won't listen to me but he listens to you all.
Père Ubu I agree to every thing.
Mère Ubu Here we are and here we must be. At the bottom of a pit that's called Eternity. How you got here may seem too mysterious. His rapacity, I agree, can be far too tedious. He's no gourmet. Has no taste for duplicity. If only he would listen to me. That's not Père Ubu's Law. That's not Père Ubu's Law. He won't listen to me but he listens to you all.
Père Ubu I agree to everything!
Mère Ubu Now that he's made himself king Père Ubu means to change every thing. No more justice. Finance or law. Into his fat belly he has gobbled them all.
Writers: Molinè - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex.
Road To Reason
Père Ubu The session's open. Come to order. Please. Stay calm and try to listen properly. You will be amazed and be confounded too. So listen close as I explain it to you. First. We'll do the financial stuff and then we're gonna run around and sniff the finest flying weasel snuff. I'll describe a system I invented to get good weather and be contented. I'll exorcize the rain. Is that plain?Phynancial Advisers What a good idea, Mr. Ubu, sir!
Mère Ubu You drunken boob! Your brain is an incoherent blur.
Père Ubu Careful! Lady Merdre. It's a wonderful place to be. Here in the midst of my very own history. People will say in years to come, We weren't worthy. We were too dumb.
Mère Ubu Can't you see that the people want sweet talk and duplicity?!
Père Ubu Here we are and here we must stay. On the road to reason and sanité.
Père Ubu It's your fault if we are so dumb. Madame Shtttrr Hook! You let your mouth run and run. I have ears with which to speak and you have a mouth with which to hear. Oh! I think that's a mistake. Belly of Ubu! Horns of my gibolets! I will return to the finance deterium lest I do forget.
Père Ubu As we were saying. The phynances are going passerbly well. A considerable number of dogs wearing wool socks prowl the streets every morning. The Grocery Police and Piggy-Bank detectives are doing fine work. Everywhere you look you can see burnt-out houses and people bent double under the weight of phynance. Well! They depend on me to make our lives better. But the marriage tax has only produced 11 cents. Even though I button-hole people everywhere to force them to marry.
Phynancial Advisers What a good idea, Mr. Ubu, sir!
Mère Ubu You drunken boob! Your brain is an incoherent blur.
Père Ubu Careful! Lady Merdre. It's a wonderful place to be. Here in the midst of my very own history. People will say in years to come, We weren't worthy. We were too dumb.
Mère Ubu Can't you see that people want sweet talk and duplicity?!
Both Here we are and here we must stay. On the road to reason and sanité.
Writers: Molinè - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex.
Slowly I Turn
Père Ubu Shove it above it and love it. We're all bound to die. Here with me so tired! Woe is the state of the phynance that can't afford the carriage perchance to ride. Afraid to demolish this old nag of a mount I've come the whole way on foot. But when we head back. By means of our knack in phynance and physic. We'll build a glider big enough to carry armies and a piggin' trough. The royal piggin' trough.The Polish Army Long live Ubu Roi! Prince of Poland. And his slutty squaw. Ting ting tating ting. Long live Ubu Rex! Prince of Puke and his Shtttrr Hook. Ting ting tating ting. Ting ting tating ting.
Père Ubu Russians are on the plain. That's plain but here I'm in a fine spot. I need a way out. Prime your guns, boys, with phynance and shtttrr. Physic and spitter. But knock 'em on the brain. It's cheaper in the main. And then we'll run as if they try to do the same thing to us. By "us" I mean me not you. But here it's time for lunch! I'll thank you all a bunch. Now sing that song I love along with so much just to munch!
The Polish Army Long live Ubu Roi! Prince of Poland. And his slutty squaw. Ting ting tating ting. Long live Ubu Rex! Hook of Shtttrr and his sweaty keks. Ting ting tating ting. Ting ting tating ting.
Père Ubu Gentlemen! Let's get ourselves set for battle. We are going to stay on the hill. Let us not be so stupid as to go down there. I will plant myself in the middle like a living citadel. You others will revolve around me. I must recommend that you stick as many bullets in the rifles as they will hold. Eight bullets can kill eight Russians and that's eight less will be after me. We'll put the infantry at the bottom of the hill to take the brunt of the Russians and kill them a little. The cavalry behind and ready to jump into the fray. While the artillery will ring this windmill you see here and bombard the whole pile of you. As for ourselves we will take a stand inside the windmill and shoot with the phynance pistol out the window. Thus we will carry the day. And we must be clear on this point. By "we" I mean me.
The Polish Army Long live Ubu Roi! King of Poland. And his slutty squaw. Ting ting tating ting. Long live Ubu Rex! Hook of Shtttrr and his sweaty keks. Ting ting tating ting. Long live Ubu Roi! Prince of Poland. And his slutty squaw. Ting ting tating ting. Long live Ubu Rex! Prince of Puke and his Shtttrr Hook. Ting ting tating ting. Ting ting tating ting.
Writers: Molinè - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex.
Watching The Pigeons
Père Ubu Oh majestic Ubu me. Kill the czar for victory. His mood is black. He's not too proud to kick my shins from behind his crowd. Let me catch you y'drunken lout And you with a gun that just won't spout. Is that so? Well! We'll see. I'll teach you to cock a snoot at me. Forward! Forward! Give it a push. Into the ditch. Over the bush. Splatter brains! Fry his rind. Forward men! I lead from behind.Puncture. Hole and funeralize. Perforate. Bury. Cover him in flies. Pardon me sir I did not see your face in the midst of my bootery. It's not my aim to inconvenience thee.
Père Ubu I dare not look! Only surmise. At my hands he shoulda demised. Pinch his nose. He'll turn blue. Shtttrr Hook does what it will do. Beat him. Cheat him. Tug at him. Flail. Valiant steed! Show him your tail. Courage bold. Consummate skill. Takes me to a safe part of the hill. Stay calm. Run for your lives! The Czar is spreading vicious lies. Puncture. Hole and funeralize. Perforate. Bury. Cover him in flies. Pardon me sir I did not see your face in the midst of my bootery. It's not my aim to inconvenience thee.
Père Ubu Men of Poland charge!
The Polish Army I think he means retreat.
Père Ubu The Victory is ours!
The Polish Army I think he means defeat.
Père Ubu Puncture. Hole and funeralize. Perforate. Bury. Cover him in flies. Pardon me sir I did not see your face in the midst of my bootery. It's not my aim to inconvenience thee.
Père Ubu Men of Poland charge!
The Polish Army I think he means retreat.
Père Ubu The Victory is ours!
The Polish Army I think he means defeat.
Writers: Molinè - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex.
The Story So Far
Mère Ubu I must be losing my mind. I think I see Mr. Ubu sleeping next to me. I'll play it cool. "Well, my fat fellow, did you sleep well?"Père Ubu Terrible. That bear was damn tough. In the battle of the Roughs and the Toughs the Roughs have completely devoured the Toughs as you will see.
Mère Ubu Who's he think he's talking to? I'll take advantage of the man's delirium and pretend to be a supernatural agent.
Père Ubu I hear a voice! Am I mad or has Unjust Retribution caught me?
Mère Ubu Yes Mr Ubu! There is indeed a Voice. The trumpet of the Archangel at the end of time would sound no different.
Père Ubu Ah! Come off it.
Mère Ubu Silence! Damn it!
Père Ubu Hey! Angels don't swear.
Mère Ubu Are you married, Mr Ubu?
Père Ubu Yes! To a horror. She has claws everywhere. It's impossible to know which way to get at her.
Mère Ubu You must get at her by gentleness. Sire Ubu. And you will soon find that she is at least the equal of the Venus of Samothrace.
Père Ubu Yes! She does have a salmon face.
Mère Ubu (I must hurry! The sun is rising.) You are not listening to me! Your wife is adorable. She hasn't a single fault.
Père Ubu You're not listening. There's not a fault she doesn't have.
Mère Ubu Silence! She is not unfaithful to you.
Père Ubu No one would have her.
Mère Ubu She doesn't drink.
Père Ubu Not since I hid the key to the wine cellar.
Mère Ubu She doesn't steal your gold.
Père Ubu Really? How strange!
Mère Ubu She doesn't embezzle as much as a cent.
Père Ubu No doubt the reason our noble and unfortunate Phynancial Horse went months without food and had to be dragged by the bridle across the Ukraine. Poor beast! He died with his shoes on.
Mère Ubu Your wife is a paragon. And you are a monster. You killed Venceslas. Père Ubu That's not my fault. She promised me a Big Sombrero.
Mère Ubu You promised Captain Ordura the dukedom but you had him killed.
Père Ubu Better me to rule than him. But now it's neither one of us so it doesn't make much difference. Take his murder off my account.
Mère Ubu You unprincipled ape!
Père Ubu You're a flat-faced thug.
Mère Ubu Watch your step Ubu!
Père Ubu Oh! I forgot who I was talking to. No. I didn't say that.
Mère Ubu There's one way to attain forgiveness.
Père Ubu I am quite disposed to become a holy man. Or bishop. Or suchlike. If I can get my name on the calendar and a Big Sombrero is involved. Mère Ubu You must forgive Mère Ubu for snitching a very small and insignificant sum of money.
Père Ubu I shall pardon her after she's had a good beating and resurrected my Phynancial Horse.
Mère Ubu (He's potty about that horse.) Oh no! The sun has risen. Shtttrr! Père Ubu You're swearing again. By my green candle! The scales have fallen from my eyes. It's Mère Ubu her fat self!
Mère Ubu No it's not!
Père Ubu You pirate hooker!
Mère Ubu I'm going to excommunicate you!
Père Ubu I can see that it's you Lady Gross Boobs! What the hell are you doing here?
Mère Ubu Buggerlas and his zanies chased me away.
Père Ubu The Russians chased me away.
Mère Ubu Tell me about your campaign Père Ubu.
Père Ubu In spite of my incontestable gallantry everybody beat up on me.
Mère Ubu Even the Poles?
Père Ubu They screamed, Long live Buggerlas. Then they killed my Phynancial Ass.
Mère Ubu Yes. Yes. I couldn't care less. You know they killed Frigadair Crotch?
Père Ubu Yes. Yes. I couldn't care less. You know they killed my general?
Mère Ubu Yes. Yes. I couldn't care less. You know they...
Père Ubu What of the Phynance?
Mère Ubu It is lost.
Père Ubu Ho! Ho! Ho! Mère Ubu, you are a card! But now you must suffer the ultimate torture. Kneel before me. Twisting of the nose. Pulling out the hair. Penetration of the little wooden stick. Extraction of the brain through the fingernails. Not to mention the opening of the bladdereen. How does that grab you honeykins?
Mère Ubu Mercy Mr Ubu!
Writers: Molinè - Mehlman - Temple - Thomas - Wheeler
©2009 Ubu Projex.
