Giro
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
Giro! Hip-hooray!
Lay in bed, there’s no need for work today
Giro! It's a gas!
Get thissen to t’pub with tax payers’ hard
earned cash
Got a car on mobility for the family
Claim a dodgy back… and get thissen a blue badge
Giro! It’s great!
I’m alreight mate, got it courtesy of the State
Giro! Outta sight!
Dun’t need none-of-that “You’ve got an interview” shite
I’m in the unworking class, so kiss my ass
Watchin’ Trisha on me brand new plasma-screen
Giro! What a crime!
But if the neighbours shop me
Then it looks like I’m doin’ time
Giro, so they say… is the root of unfairness today
But to genuine folk it’s no big joke
That they’re giving none away
Digging The Roads Up
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
You’d only just sped it up
‘afore you had to slow it darn
There’s a tonne of traffic
And it’s tailing back a mile or two frum t’Tarn
But soon you find when you pass the sign…
They’re digging the roads up
So then you quickly turn it off
Before you burn your new clutch art
You’re running late already
And it’s just thing to mek you scream and shart
‘cos you find that it’s t’Council’s time…
For digging the roads up
It says ‘Delays expected
Until the end of June’
But when they end in August,
The new sign says ‘more coming soon’
But there is just a gret big hole
And a brokken traffic light
There’s one fella diggin’
While the rest are watchin’ him, that’s abart right
There’s loads of fuss, but there ain’t a rush…
They’re digging the roads up
And then to mek it worse
The lazy buggers cun’t care less
When they’re likely to finish mekkin’ people late
Is anyone’s best guess
So now you know where your council tax goes…
On digging the roads up
You’re sat bumper to bumper,
On Sunday it’s a farce
If only there were workmen,
You’d stick them cones right up their arse!
Eventually they clear it up
And start to tek the cones away
And the bloke with the sign lettin’ two at a time out
Isn’t here today
The digger’s gone ‘cos they’ve finally done…
With digging the roads up
But soon they tear it all back up
Because there’s summat else to do
You would’ve thought
That they could’ve done two jobs at once,
It isn’t hard to do
Yet more expense, there’s no common sense…
They’re digging roads up
You Give Tarn A Bad Name
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
A baseball cap is what you wear
You think you’ve got style but there’s clearly none there
Chains of bling, star of CCTV
You should be in prison but you’re walkin’ free
Woah, with all the drugs that you sell
Woah, you’ve been on ‘Neighbours From Hell’
Electronic’ly tagged with a curfew as well
From Jump to Locke Park, it’s such a shame,
Chavs give Tarn bad name
You give them an ASBO and they think it’s fame
You give Tarn a bad name
You Burberry hoodies, hide your faces away
To stop you from starring on Crimewatch UK
Wearing cheap nylon sportswear,
Just a quick sudden move
And the whole National Grid could be powered by you
Woah, your DNA’s on police file
Woah, you've been on Jeremy Kyle
Your mother’s your sister; you’ve only known for a while
From Pilley to Wuz’bro, it’s such a shame,
Chavs give Tarn a bad name
You claim that that pit-bull is perfectly tame
But you give Tarn a bad name
All through t’borough, it’s such a shame,
Chavs give Tarn bad name
Stop acting like Westwood ‘cos he’s just as lame
You give Tarn a bad name
From Hoyland to Kendray, it’s such a shame,
Chavs give Tarn a bad name
You can act like you’ve done nowt,
But you’re allus to blame
You give Tarn a bad name
Arse On Fire
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
It’s 1 o’clock in the morning
And you’ve been rarnd the Tarn
And you’ve now got the munchies… you’re hungry
Like bees around honey, like a moth to a flame
You stagger off for a curry… no worries
Your legs work like a Sat Nav and tek you to the K2
You stumble in lookin’ plastered,
“I’ll have pork vindaloo”
They don’t hold back on the chillies,
They don’t hold back on the spice
And you wolf it darn quickly… so quickly
Bugger! Your mouth is on fire!
Woah! Can’t help but perspire!
Now it’s early next morning,
You could drink a tap dry
Your mouth’s like Ghandi’s flip-flops,
But you cannot think why
And your head it is pounding and you can’t stop the pain
You’re feelin’ so dehydrated… so wasted
But your gut’s feeling jippy, you know it ain’t right
And then you remember... what you ate last night
And you push back the bedsheets, and you race to the bog
And you only just make it... you made it
Bugger! Your arse is on fire!
Woah! Now the temperature’s higher
Yes, your bum’s like a cherry, it’s red and it’s raw
You daren’t move from the toilet…
It feels incredibly sore
‘cos it seems that it’s hotter on the way out
Than going in in the first place,
You have good reason to shout
The toilet-roll’s on the fridge shelf,
Yes, you need some relief
But your Ring of Fire… it beggars belief
As your Khyber Pass suffers from Ghandi’s Revenge
It smelt so bad I could taste it… taste it
Bugger! Your arse is on fire!
Woah! With the flames burning higher!
Doonican’s Dog
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
Alan’s mother had a terrier and Penny was its name
She’d take it for a walk to spend a penny up the lane
He volunteered to walk it to the park in Matlock Bath
She said okay, but didn’t know it would be such a faff
He fetched the lead and he hooked it to her collar
And then his mam said “Don’t forget a bag”
“A bag?” he said “What on earth do I need that for?”
And Penny looked at Alan and she gave her tail a wag
She said “Alan, it’s for pooing in.
What d’you think you’d do with it?”
“I’ve been already!” replied Alan to his mum
“You really can’t be serious, it’s for picking up her business.
You can’t just leave it dangling from the poor dog’s bum”
So he set off down with it, strolling into town with it
Through the gates, past the trees and kids and larks
The dog it were loving it, couldn’t get enough of it
The day that Alan took the dog to Matlock Park.
The dog was looking ready,
Alan quickly thought it through
He’d get the dog to go inside the bag to do its poo
But Penny saw it different, in fact she just thought ‘no’
She was buggered if the bag was the place she was going to go
Alan clearly must have under-rated it
He thought he’d train it to get inside the sack
He thought it, brought it, and then, without apology,
The dog just buggered off as if it wasn’t coming back
There was Alan pushing it, shoving it and shushing it,
Fighting and struggling; he’d almost given up
Stood there whacking it, shoving it and smacking it
He might as well have tried to pick the Town Hall up!
Penny she was eyeing him, openly defying him
Growling and snarling, she gave a nasty bark
He stood there reversing it, swearing and a-cursing it
The day that Alan took the dog to Matlock Park.
The muscles of the mighty, never known to flinch
He couldn’t shift the terrier a quarter of an inch
Alan lay exhausted, hanging round its throat
With a grip just like a Scotchman on a five pound note
Other dog walkers crowded round to stare at him
They couldn’t believe what they’d saw him do but then
Penny backed into the bag and left a proper whopper
And Alan gave a cheer
But quickly changed his mind again
‘cos he was left there dragging it,
Tying up and bagging it
The bag was so full that he thought it might explode
It was too big for his pocket,
But the dog went like a rocket
And it legged it off contently having dropped its load
But Alan kept on pulling it, dragging the bag full of it
He took it home despite the trouble and the strife
His mam looked mad when she looked down,
Her face it dropped into a frown
And said
“Alan, why on earth d’you use me Bag For Life!?”
If I Could Punch A Face…
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
There’s a fever sweeping ‘cross the country now
It’s even worse than all the fans of Glee
He’s on every bloody cover, of every magazine
Irritating normal folk like me
If I could punch a face… it’d be Justin Bieber’s
There’s not a trace of doubt in my mind
He’s a chuff - can’t stand Justin Bieber,
I hope he gets fever or even hives
He’s only twelve and he wrote his own biography
(in crayon)
His face adorns the shelves of every shop (it’s sickening)
All the girls go crazy; he’s the prince of pop
But what will happen when his bollocks drop?
If I could punch a face… it’d be Justin Bieber’s
There’s not a trace of doubt in my mind
He’s an arse… I hate Justin Bieber singing “Baby-Oh”,
Like, a billion times
He’s got a stupid haircut, and his music’s crap
You couldn’t tire from giving him a slap
If I could punch a face… it’d be Justin Bieber’s
There’s not a trace of doubt in my mind
Switch his music off…
Destroy ‘Bieber Fever’ and poke Justin Bieber in the eye
If I could punch a face… it’d be Justin Bieber’s
Seek medical advice if you’ve got Bieber Fever
‘cos it’s worse than clap!
Barnsley Birds
(Lyrics: Chris Sammon)
Well the Gawber Girls on Pitt Street
Neck their vodka darn in one
And the Darton Girls never hang ararnd
Just one kiss and then they’re gone
The Pogmoor Girls are teasers
They say they will but that I doubt
And the Thurnscoe lasses say they surely would
But their dads'd knock you art
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley Birds
The Brierley Birds have got big houses
They’ve got a bob or two
And the Hoyland Girls are a friendly bunch
‘cos there’s sod all else to do
I’ve been all rarnd the borough
And I’ve seen girls of all types
But a chat-up from a Darfield lass
I’m like a rat up a drainpipe
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley
I wish they could all be like the Barnsley Birds
Birds, birds, birds, yeah I love the birds…
(I wish they all could be like the Barnsley Birds)
Born To Get Riled
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
Get your motor runnin’, head out on the highway
But sometimes road-rage grips me if things get in me way
You could fit a chuffin’ tank in that gap
You turned the road into a parkin’ space
Why don’t you put yer foot darn granddad,
Or else I’ll get in yer face!
A flaming’ learner driver doin’ 30 in the fast lane
I’m sat behind a tractor and it’s driving me insane
Hey pal, where’ve you left yer white stick?
How you got a license isn’t clear
Get off yer bloody mobile phone and get into fifth gear
You can say that I act like a child
But I was born, born to get riled
Despite how hard I try, they mek me wanna cry
Born to get riled
Get your motor runnin’, head out on the highway
Pedestrians and cyclists, just get art of me way
I’m not clairvoyant, use yer indicators
Get off me bumper, you don’t own the road
How’s your driving?
Well I’ll tell you when you’ve shifted your heavy load
You can say that I act like a child
But I was born, born to get riled
Despite how hard I try, they mek me wanna cry
Born to get riled
I Shopped At Asda
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
I shopped at Asda and it nearly put ten years on me
When I do the Big Shop it’s always a catastrophe
It’s Friday neet, and I’m doin’ the Big Shop…
Got that trolley wit’ dodgy wheels
It’s tekking me places I dun’t wanna go
Don’t need Lillettes or Vagisil
At the deli counter, got a ticket there…
It was number fifty five
It was like a meat and cheese-based lottery…
No bugger’s getting out alive
I shopped at Asda, ‘cos I needed some snap for me tea
You always spend a fortune
‘cos there’s loads on ‘buy-one-get-one-free’
I couldn’t move for all the obstacles,
That were blockin’ every lane
Can’t get to t’shelves for t’staff restacking them
It’s enough to drive a bloke insane
Kids running wild in the confection’ry…
It meks me wanna shout
They’re screaming “Mam! Why can’t I have no sweets?”
What they really wants a bloody clout.
I shopped at Asda and I got me quid stuck in t’trolley
I only went for t’paper, but bought a Blu-Ray DVD
All of a sudden, t’final aisle’s in sight…
I’m almost home and free
Head for t’counter, but my path is blocked
By a chuff on shop mobility
The checkout girl looked bored and looked through me
She said “D’you want a Bag For Life?”
I said “I’ve got one here already love”...
And got a reight clout off me wife
I shopped at Asda, but I did not take me mam with me
Me mam shops at Iceland
‘cos that’s where mums are meant to be
Frustration came my way one day,
At the self-service check-out
Unexpected item in the bagging area,
Before I’d started scanning owt
The barcode scanner said my Toblerone
Was a plasma-screen TV
I looked around, but no one could be found,
It wasn’t looking good for me
One spotty kid was running fourteen tills,
It took ages to sort the farce
He said “Do you need a hand with your packing sir?”
I said “You can pack self-service up yer arse!”
I don’t like Sainsbury’s, no no! Or t’Netto
I don’t like Waitrose, oh no! Or t’Tescos!
I hate Morrisons, I do! And t’Co-Op
I can think of a few more reasons to shop elsewhere
I can’t stand shopping, no no! I hate it!
But I’ve solved that problem... I send the missus
She prefers Lidl, she does! Or sometimes Aldi
She buys in bulk there... that’s much more handy
I can’t stand shopping!
Shine On You Crazy Bar-Steward
Lyrics: Scott Doonican
Remember when it was fun, we were Bar-Steward Sons
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
But your sudden goodbye tore a hole in the sky
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
You were caught in the cross fire
Of knit-wear and good times
And it brought you right down to your knees
I thought you were kidding, you had to be joking,
Now don’t be a stranger,
You long-lost half-brother of mine!
And then you didn’t want to hang around
On the dark side of town
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
Brave face every night, but exposed in stage lights
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
Well you hung up your tank-top with random precision
Be careful you don’t want to freeze
You washed off the greasepaint, you made your decision,
And turned off the showman,
Just as it was our turn to shine!
Nobody knows where you are... how near or how far
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
It doesn’t feel like it should…
Two out of three ain’t as good
Shine on you crazy Bar-Steward
And we’ll bask in the shadow of yesterday’s triumph
And exhale that icy cold breeze
No-one’s a winner… we all end as losers
Last orders are here,
Take your glass to the bar ‘cos it’s time
© All lyrics copyright of Moon-On-A-Stick Records