Альбом Frank Zappa

Debra Kadabra
Say she's a witch
Shit-ass Charlotte!
Ain't that a bitch?
Debra Kadabra –
Haw, that's rich!
(Ione, a rancho granny
Shook her wrinkled fanny…)

Shoes are too tight and pointed
Shoes are too tight and pointed
Ankles sorta puffin' out
Cause me to shout:

Oh Debra Algebra Ebneezra Kadabra!
Witch Goddess, Witch Goddess of Lankershim Boulevard!
Cover my entire body with Avon Cologna
And drive me to some relative's house in East L.A. (Wooden dog!)
(Just till my skin clears up)
Turn it to Channel 13
And make me watch the rubber tongue
When it comes out
From the puffed & flabulent Mexican rubber-goods mask
Next time they show The Brnokka
Make me buy The Flosser
Make me grow Braniac Fingers
(But with more hair)
Make me kiss your turquoise jewelry!
Emboss me!
Rub the hot front part of my head
With rented unguents!
Give me bas-relief!

Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
(Oh, hell, yes!)
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
(Oh, hell, yes!)
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
(Oh, hell, yes!)
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it
(Oh, heel, yes!)

Learn the Pachuco Hop
And let me twirl ya…
(Learn the Pachuco… learn the Pachuco Hop an' lemme twirl you)
Oh Debra Fauntleroy-Magnesium Kadabra!
Take me with you…
Don't you want any of these?

I coulda swore her hair was made of rayon
She wore a Milton Bradley Crayon
But she was something I could lay on
Can't remember what became of me…
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

She put a Doobie Brothers tape on
(La la la la la-ahh la)
I had a Roger Daltrey cape on
(A Roger Daltrey cape on)
There was a bed I dumped her shape on
Can't remember what became of me…
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Somewhat later on
I woke up and she was gone
There was dew out on the lawn
In the sunrise
Later she came back
With a rumpled paper sack
Which she told me would contain
A surprise

She stuck her hand right in it to the bottom
Said she knew I'd be surprised she got 'em
Take a Charleston pimp to spot 'em
Then she gave a pair of shoes to me…
Plastic leather, 14 triple D

I said: "I wonder what's the shoes for?"
She told me: "Don't you worry no more!"
And got right down there on the tile floor
Now Darling STOMP ALL OVER ME!…
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Is this something new
Having people stomp on you?
Is it what I need to do
For your pleasure?
(Yo' pleasure… it's… uh… uh… all I need)
"What is this, a quiz?
Don't you worry what it is
It is merely just a moment
I can treasure… "
(What is… ?) (You know…)

By ten o'clock her arms and legs were rendered
She couldn't talk 'cause her mouth had been extendered
Looked to me as though she had been blendered
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
Well…

But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

It might seem strange to Herb and Dee –
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper,
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin.
And they called that 'tobacco juice'.
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx.
My entire room absorbed every echo.
The music was… thud like.
The music was… thud like.
I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug.
Opaque melodies that would bug most people.
Music from the other side of the fence.
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads.
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt.
With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots.
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd.
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway,
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street.
Up a wrought iron fire escape.
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels.
Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.

Sam was a BASKET CASE!
A hardened dark ivory clip held… saleable everyday pencils.
I wish I had a pair 'o bongos!
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury!
Oowwwww! Bongo Fury!
(Boogie!)
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury…
Bongo Fury…

FZ: While we're at it, we have a sort of a cowboy song we'd like to do for ya. This is a song that deals with the rapidly approaching 200th birthday of the United States of America, ladies and gentlemen! This is a song that warns you in advance that next year everybody is gonna try and sell you things that maybe you shouldn't ought to buy, and not only that, they've been planning it for years. The name of this song is (pardon me), "Poofters Froth Wyoming Plans Ahead".

Poofter's Froth, Wyoming
March Eleven Sixty-Seven
Take a letter,
Ms. Abetter,
An' our pigeons
Will be homing

To our jobbers in Dakota
And to Merwyn, Minnesota
This is merely just a note about
Performance to our quota

Well, we've all come out
To show dem,
An' the Elks have helped us
Load 'em…
Little packets full of jackets
Little rackets, little rackets

Little Poofter-Cloth Appointments
Little Poofter's Froth Anointments
Little hoods, little goods
Little doo-dads from the woods

The entire stock is shipping
(Oh, our shod is hardly slipping!)
To our markets of the world
Our wrinkled pennants are unfurled!

T-shirt racks, rubber snacks,
Poster rolls with matching tacks,
Yes, a special beer for sports,
And paper cups that hold two quarts!

Everything a nation needs
For making hoopla while it feeds
The trash compactors, small reactors,
Mowers, blowers, throwers & the glowers

This is Buy-Cent-Any-All Salute (HYULK!)
Two hundred years have gone ka-poot!
(Ah but we have been astute!)
Signed:
Anon. – Wyo. Galoot

I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania, six o'clock in the morning, got up to early, it was a terrible mistake... sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange juice about as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened cornflakes, and I said to myself: "This is the life!"...

She's 200 years old,
so mean, she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache

She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
just like she had True Religion.. BOY!

She's two hundred years old
Hoy!, hoy!, in 200 years,
half of this, none of that,
one.. fifty.. oh squattin',
Yeah-ah, ain't she got
Oohhh, she got religion now, boy.

Oohhhh, ?? ?? ??
Oohhhh, she's just mean,
she just, she just can't grow no lips.
Squat.. down, so mean she can't grow no lips.
200 years old, so mean she can't grow no lips.

Out in Cucamonga
Many years ago
Near a Holy Roller Church
There was once a place
Where me and a couple of friends
Began practicing for the time
We might go
(YEAH AH-AH… YEAH AH-AH
WELL WELL
YEAH AH-AH… YEAH AH-AH
WELL WELL
YEAH AH-AH… YEAH AH-AH)
On TV
And as fate would have it
Later on we got a chance to play,
All we ever really knew
All we ever really knew
All we ever really knew
That it was crazy
(Nanook-a, no no)
(Yoo-hoo-hoo yoo-hoo yoo!)
To be doin' it any other way
That it was crazy
(Nanook-a, no no)
To be doin' it any other way
That it was crazy
(Nanook-a, no no)
To be doin' it any other way
Yes, it was CRAZY, CRAZY
Ooooh… WAH…

No more credit from the liquor store
Suit is all dirty, my shoes is all wore
Tired and lonely, my heart is all sore
Advance romance
I can't stand it no more, you know

Told me she loved me, I believed what she said
Took me for a sucker, boy, all corn-fed
Next thing I knew she had a bolt on the door
Advance romance
I can't use it no more, no, I can't use it

She took George's watch like they always do
(It was a Timex, too!)
(Him ashamed on you)
No more money, boy, I shoulda knew
(You know I told ya)
(I know you told me)
(You didn't listen to me)
(But I couldn't listen to you!)
Told you 'bout the anchovies…
(You know what I'm talkin' about!)
George Duke!
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
(Look what she did to Denny right now!)

(Talk about it!)

(I'm chokin' the blues this morning!)

([…])
(Get all over… ! My Goodness!)
(Old time!)

(Chicken was never like this!)

All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long
All night long

Advance romance
(Think about it!)
People we… are…
(Yeah, one more time, one time!)
Through! But, wait a minute!
Potato-head Bobby was a friend of mine
Opened three of his eyes in the food stamp line
Opened four of his eyes in the food stamp line
Opened five of his eyes in the food stamp line
Opened six of his eyes in the food stamp line
Oh, you know they told me she might be a devil
No, you like them
Good God! Did you hear what I said?
Evil women
Oh, yeah!
You know, you know, you know
But she sure was fine
You like them
Oh, yeah!
Evil women
Growin' up, goin' home!
Advance romance
(What you gonna do?)
He wanna try it one time
He said he don't mind, no

Later that night he drop on by
Told her all he wanna do was step up and say "Hi"
(HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI HI-HI)
Half an hour later she had frenched his fry
Advance romance
Bobby, say good-bye

Are you with me on this, people?

The man with the woman head
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter,
forming a hard, beetle-like, triangular chin much like a praying mantis.
Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile.
The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand.
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes,
map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint.
He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth,
stained from too much opium, chipped from the years.
The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers.
A piece of coconut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings.
Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a loaded green ascot.
A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow daks.
Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder.
I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed,
"You cheap son of a bitch" as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.

The muffin man is seated at the table
in the laboratory of the utility muffin Research kitchen.
Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon,
he gathers an Intimate quantity of dried muffin
remnants and brushing his scapular aside,
Procceds to dump these inside of his shirt...
He turns to us and speaks:

"Some people like cupcakes better.
I for one care less for them!"

Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas
snoot of a fully charged icing anointment utensil,
he 'poot's forths a quarter-ounce green rosette,
- oh ah yuk, yuk... let's try that again...! -
he 'poots' forth a quarter-ounce green rosette
near the summit of a dense,
but radiant muffin of his own design.
Later he says:

"Some people... some people like cupcakes
exclusively, while myself, I say,
there is naught nor ought there be nothing
so exalted on the face of god's grey
Earth as that prince of foods... the muffin!"

Girl you thought he was a man,
But he was a muffin,
He hung around till you found,
That he didn't know nuthin',

Girl you thought he was a man,
But he only was a-puffin',
No cries is heard in the night,
As a result of him stuffin',

Bruce Fowler on trombone,
Napoleon Murphy brock on tenor sax and lead vocals,
Terry Bozzio on drums,
Tom Fowler on bass,
Denny Walley on slide,
George Duke on keyboards,
Captain Beefheart on vocals and soprano sax and madness.
Thank you very much for coming to the concert tonight. Hope you enjoyed it. goodnight
Austin, texas, where ever you are.