Introduction lyrics - Chumbawamba

In the dark times, will we be singing?
Yes, we'll be singing of the dark times.

Every new day's dawn
Brings a song of it's own
Waiting to be sung.

Every new day's dawn
Brings a song of it's own

Voices, That's All lyrics - Chumbawamba

Seigfried Sassoon on the Dunbar End (Everyone sang)
When strangers became your new best friends (Everyone sang)
It was Armistice Day, and peace broke out (Everyone sang)
Sometimes a melody is louder than a shout. (Everyone sang)

Somebody struck up a song
We didn't know the words but still we sang along.

Just our voices, that's all,
Everywhere a concert hall.
Voices, that's all
Lullaby and call.

Chucking out time at the bar on the corner (Everyone sang)
From the Albion tap room to California (Everyone sang)
In the olden days before they put in a jukebox (Everyone sang)
"Please to put a penny in the old man's voice box." (Everyone sang)

Somebody struck up a song
We didn't know the words but still we sang along.

Just our voices, that's all,
Everywhere a concert hall.
Voices, that's all
Lullaby and call.

Lost in the middle of a demonstration (Everyone sang)
All power to imagination (Everyone sang)
Your song it sounds a whole lot better (Everyone sang)
When everyone sings that song together (Everyone sang)

Somebody struck up a song
We didn't know the words but still we sang along.

Just our voices, that's all,
Everywhere a concert hall.
Voices, that's all
Lullaby and call.

Just our voices, that's all,
Everywhere a concert hall.
Voices, that's all
Lullaby and call.

Just our voices, that's all.

Pickle lyrics - Chumbawamba

Preserved and safe on a high-up shelf
Where soiled little fingers can't mess
Catalogued labeled and rarely-played
Polished and pure and possessed

Aaahaa - That's not music
Aaahaa - That's a pickle
Aaahaa - That's not music
Aaahaa - That's a pickle

Best keep your songs in the safety of darkness
And never expose them to light
Open with care (shh), pack in the box
All your songs might grow wings and take flight

Aaahaa - That's not music
Aaahaa - That's a pickle
Aaahaa - That's not music
Aaahaa - That's a pickle

Pickle [x12]

(Whealin' and the dealin' there, in the whiskey business for a long time...
And this guy had a guitar...
It laid around there and I lotta times there wouldn't be any customers in the place
And I'd grab up this guitar and I got to pecking around on it
And I thought it sounded awful pretty)

Wagner At The Opera lyrics - Chumbawamba

I'm laying on the pavement
And the last thing I recall
Picked up by the arms and legs
And taken from the hall
For squaring up to culture
In the circle and the stall

All because they're playing Wagner at the opera
All because they're playing Wagner at the opera

Hurt can make you act without
Apology or regret
Over half a century
But still I can't forget
Ideology makes a mockery
Of the string quartet

All because they're playing Wagner at the opera
All because they're playing Wagner at the opera

When they came to take me
I was standing on a chair
I can't keep quiet
I have something to declare
Listen to my rattle
For my rattle says "Beware"

All because they're playing Wagner at the opera
All because they're playing Wagner at the opera

A rattle for remembering
The rattle of the chains
A rattle for remembering
The rattle of the trains
From Warsaw down the decades
To hell and home again

All because they're playing Wagner at the opera
All because they're playing Wagner at the opera

For everyone we lost
I swing the rattle loud and long
I swing it 'til I drown out
All the music and the songs
This tattoo will last forever
And my memory is long

Here's to no more playing Wagner at the opera
Here's to no more playing Wagner at the opera
Here's to no more playing Wagner at the opera

Underground lyrics - Chumbawamba

Lights out, the fun begins.
Can't sleep when I'm listening in.
Under cover, that sound -
My connection to the underground.
Underground...
My connection to the underground.

Transistor, tiny spark.
A bigger, better world in the dark.
Under cover, I found
My connection to the underground.
Underground...
My connection to the underground.

A secret signal from a Starman -
Just a string and a tin can.
It turned my everything right around;
My connection to the underground.
Underground...
My connection to the undergound.

Torturing James Hetfield lyrics - Chumbawamba

Well, we got James Hetfield
And we tied him up tight
Naked and cold
We kept the strip lights bright
Said what have you got for us James
He said nothing at all
So we dragged some speakers
In from the hall

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

Well, we tried every tune in the songbook
To loosen his tongue
We played Simply Red nonstop
He just swayed along
Then we had an idea
A new plan of attack
Thought that even a deaf man
Would bend and crack

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

Now look what we've brought for you James
Your favorite disc
It's Chumbawamba
Their greatest hits (There's only one)
Turned up the volume
You should've heard him sing (Oh how he sings)
He cried like a baby
And told us everything (it was Lars!)

James James James
Just give us names names names
James James James

The Devil's Interval lyrics - Chumbawamba

If you should walk out in the morning
To fetch your water from the well
Good people please beware
Little children do take care
Watch out for the devil's interval

When strumming through the woods in springtime
When evening blackbirds coo and caw
Such sounds of joy and sadness
May hide the prince of darkness
Beware the devil's interval
Beware the devil's interval

The kettle whistlin' in the kitchen
The chiming clock that's in the hall
Should they sound e flat to a
Then lucifer is on his way
Here comes the devil's interval
Here comes the devil's interval

Don't take your loved one to the dance hall
Lest music drag you down to hell
Pay no mind to songs like these
For I may be Mephistopheles
Singing the devil's interval
Singing the devil's interval

Aaahaa...Aahaa...Aahaa...Aaah [x3]

Hammer, Stirrup & Anvil lyrics - Chumbawamba

Our Glorious Leader
Declares by decree:
'The music of the Glorious State from this time on will be
Square-jawed and dreary
For the good of us all.'
Hammer, stirrup and anvil under state control

My name is Dimitri
Man of some renown
In this symphony of spies I keep my ear to the ground
Stave, crochet and quaver
Under the editor's scrawl
Hammer, stirrup and anvil under state control

An operetta for our leader
A quartet for the drawer
He gets the rank cantatas
And I keep the score
A libretto for the death camps
Some day you'll hear them all
Hammer, stirrup and anvil under state control
Hammer, stirrup and anvil under state control

Puccini Said lyrics - Chumbawamba

[opera in background]

Maria, she sits in the same easy chair
Framed by the sun from outside
Sings 'Madame Butterfly' over again
Black daisies
For the bride

[opera in background]

Encores and curtain calls, flowers and cheers
And so many people to see!
Puccini said "One day, Miss Tobyn
You'll be singing this song just for me
Just for me"

[opera in background]

That Same So-So Tune lyrics - Chumbawamba

[spoken]
"Bang, the little drummer takes a solo, reaching his young hands all over traps and kettles and cymbals and foot-peddle
BOOM in a fantastic crash of sound – but what will happen?"

The dance halls are dark now
The ballrooms are closed
No wax for my needle and I don't suppose
You'll be swinging by anytime soon
Singing that same so-so tune
Nobody's playing
No-one's been paid
The music's all stopped and
You never said you could
Wait from September to June
Singing that same so-so tune
While brothers are fighting and working to rule
Here's a tired, sentimental old song
It goes: 'Ooh, baby, baby
Treating me wrong'
We'll be back where we belong before long
(It's the beat of the heart)
(It's the beat of the heart)
(It's the beat of the heart)
(It's the beat of the heart)
(It's the beat of the heart)

While brothers are fighting and working to rule
Here's a tired, sentimental old song
It goes: 'Ooh, baby, baby
Treating me wrong'
We'll be back where we belong before long
I've heard all the stories
It's wild and it's new
Hot sounds in the city
But what can I do?
Might as well shoot for the moon
Singing that same so-so tune
Singing that same so-so tune

Singing Out The Days lyrics - Chumbawamba

Half the front's out there, half-buried
Some of them alive
The rest of us, we freeze and pray for Spring
"Dearest Mother, fill my lungs till victory or food arrives"
What else can we do out here but sing?

Sixteen years and never been kissed
Singing out the days
Jumped the queue and the waiting list
Singing out the days
Civvy suits and new recruits, clean your rifle, polish your boots
Learn to give the correct salute
Singing out the days
Singing
Singing
Singing, singing out the days
We march until we drop
Then we go over the top
Singing, singing out the days
Lice and rats along the trench
Singing out the days
Coffin nails to cover the stench
Singing out the days
For thirty weeks we hold the line while all the toffs get reassigned
Apart from the war, we're doing fine
Singing out the days
Singing
Singing
Singing, singing out the days
We march until we drop
Then we go over the top
Singing, singing out the days
Songs for drowning out the shells
Singing out the days
Songs to prove you're alive and well
Singing out the days
Songs for our humanity in the face of inhumanity
To demonstrate your sanity
Singing out the days
Singing
Singing
Singing, singing out the days
We march until we drop
Then we go over the top
Singing, singing out the days

You Don't Exist lyrics - Chumbawamba

Take a seat, have a cigarette
We're here to help you to forget
To snap you shut like a castanet

Tell me where it all went wrong
Why don't you write the kind of songs
For people to sing along?

I used to play
The violin
Now I spend my days just
Listening in

You have no friends
You won't be missed
I'm here to tell you that you don't exist
You have no friends
You won't be missed
I'm here to tell you that you don't exist

There's just one door out of here
You can save your career
Or you can
'Disappear'

Our Glorious Leader would advise
Some kind of compromise
Anything else would be unwise

I used to play
The tambourine
Now I spend my days just
Listening in

You have no friends
You won't be missed
I'm here to tell you that you don't exist
You have no friends
You won't be missed
I'm here to tell you that you don't exist

The Song Collector lyrics - Chumbawamba

The Folk Society meet on Thursday nights
Clear their throats and put their coughs to flight
To sing the dusty cobwebs from the room
A repertoire both in and out of tune
Don't assume a singalong, or worse
This history in song and countless verse
Pays homage to the man who, long ago
Collected all the songs the singers know
Collected all the songs the singers know

Edward Alexander, man of action
Armed only with his reel-to-reel contraption
One hundred years ago in mac and boots
Set out to faithfully preserve the region's roots
And every night in some small village inn
Fortified with fortitude and gin
Mr Alexander, for a shilling
Would thus record your song, if you were willing
Would thus record your song, if you were willing

So word got round, and soon there formed a queue
And the line of willing singers grew and grew
Brass for oohs and aahs? You can't go wrong
When there's someone paying a shilling for a song
When all his tapes are filled up, Edward leaves
There's a history preserved, so he believes
But all the so-called singers back inside
They know they took a city scholar for a ride
They know they took a city scholar for a ride

For they shook the man for every coin he'd got
With words and tunes all made up on the spot
Invented tales not twenty minutes old
So history, like ale, is bought and sold.
The old contraption's packed away and boxed
And a century is marked upon the clock
So tradition holds that Edward's great collection
Is honoured with a weekly resurrection
Honoured with a weekly resurrection

And now the old Society sing the songs
Word for word, and kept where they belong
As once again, they eulogise the past
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last

Missed lyrics - Chumbawamba

Walking down the street on my own
Lost in the world of my headphones

Uhhhuuhuu...
Safe inside the boom and the hiss

Marking out the time with my feet
The d and the s of the beat

Uhhhuuhuu...
Wondering if there's something that I missed

Ratatatay lyrics - Chumbawamba

George looks gorgeous in pinstripes,
pocket handkerchief and cravat,
swaggering out of the Band On The
Wall in a burgundy Homberg hat,
singing "Ratatatay, ratatatay!" George
after-hours and the worse for whisky
when somebody shouts "Hey, you!" in
a pitch-black Manchester backstreet
... well, what's a poor singer to do but
sing "Ratatatay, ratatatay"? Two men
flashing a knife blade, saying "give us
your notes and your watch" - Singing
the backstreet stand-off to the rhythm
of the fear and the scotch. George, not
wanting to feel the knife, cornered
and speeding and scared ... from the
back of his mind comes 'Ursonate',
Sound and fury and words. He sings:
"Ratatatay, ratatatay!" So the robbers
are stuck to the spot now, watching
George as he sings for his life. Menace
turns to panic and they turn and run
and the song waves goodbye to the
knife - singing "Ratatatay, ratatatay!"