Showbusiness! (live)

This is the Showbusiness! live LP, re-released in the USA as "For A Free Humanity: For Anarchy". Thanks to Andrew Hernandez for corrections on Slag Aid lyrics.

Never Do What You Are Told

One two three four
One two
Three four
Let's go!
This coat my royal gown
A stolen hand-me-down
No need to scrape and bow
We can be heroes now
For more than just one day
And here's how
Look both ways when crossing roads
Don't wear slippers 'til you're old
Never do what you are told
(Repeat)

I Never Gave Up

(Shouting)
I want to hear some revolution out there!
(Chorus)
If you survive me
I Never gave up
Tell them this
I Never gave up
If you survive me
I Never gave up
Tell them this
Almost as if I were planning ahead
I drank, I ate, I made love
I learnt to snatch whatever I could
I never asked for pity and I never gave up
(Repeat chorus)
Twenty months I kept accounts
And in the end they'll balance out
Sometimes I vomit happy memories
Sometimes I laugh out loud just to crack my face
(Repeat chorus)
If I meet Hitler in the other place
I'll spit this precious soup in his face
And all my accounts will be settled, you see
'Cause Hitler never ever got the better of me
(Repeat chorus)
I never gave up, I never gave up
I crawled in the mud but I never gave up
Ta, we do say ta
What kind of terrorist are they?
An old school terrorist.
An old school terrorist? Forget it!
Ta
(Repeat)

Give The Anarchist A Cigarette

Albert!
What?
Bobby!
What?
For god's sake burn it down!
Give the anarchist a cigarette
'Cause that's as close as he's ever going to get
Give the anarchist a cigarette
Bobby just hasn't learned it yet
Give the anarchist a cigarette
The times are changing but he just forgets
Give the anarchist a cigarette
He's going to choke on his harmonica Albert
Nothing ever burns down by itself
Every fire needs a little bit of help
Nothing ever burns down by itself
Every fire needs a little bit of
Give the anarchist a cigarette
A candy cig for the spoilt brat
Give the anarchist a cigarette
We'll get Albert to write you a check
Give the anarchist a cigarette
And he'll be burning up the air in his personal jet
Give the anarchist a cigarette
You know I hate every pop star that I ever met
Nothing ever burns down by itself
Every fire needs a little bit of help
Nothing ever burns down by itself
Every fire needs a little bit of
(Chatter)
Give the anarchist a cigarette
Burn baby burn, burn baby burn
(Repeat)
Nothing ever burns down by itself
Every fire needs a little bit of help
(Repeat)
Burn! Burn! Burn!

Heaven/Hell

I'm not guilty, I have nothing to say, uhm, I'm innocent!
(Chatter)
I want a revolution!
When?
Now!
Tall as houses
Small as spiders
Undefined this buzz inside us
(Chorus)
Tightrope walker, chaos order
I fell right into heaven/hell
Devil take me, God forsake me
Made my home in heaven/hell
Out of ruins growing pains
Wide-eyed pirates crossing bones
(Repeat chorus)
Kicking giants drowned in reason
Breaking old building new
(Repeat chorus)
Ta

That's How Grateful We Are

OK, this one's called "Whitewash"
When was the very first time you saw Chumbawamba?
In my dreams!
Ha!
Working in a forge, black lungs, burnt skin
Callouses, arched back, hammering, hammering
Stalin watching over us pigeon shit head
We'd spit on the floor at this red bastard god
That's how grateful we are
(Repeat)
Bronze statue, pink marble, built to last
We brought him to his knees in a single night
And the boots that remained I attacked, I attacked
Hammering, hammering, the past is past
That's how grateful we are
(Repeat)
Scrub away, scrub away
And the noise rang out, metal on metal
Pigeons flit, dust settled
Out from the shadows we took to the streets
David chopping at the giant's feet
That's how grateful we are
(Repeat)
OK, we're gonna take it right, right, right, right down, way down
What we need is a break from the old routine
(Repeat)
Can I kick it? Yes you can!
(Repeat)
There ain't no justice, just us
(Repeat)
OK, we've been doing this one quite a few nights running, but I'd like to take that one. Is that a yes? Which one, then?
Goodbye girl, goodbye girl...
Martin McLaren, Archer, Anais Nin...
Well, basically, Chumbawamba are the sort of metals of the pop world
The old groups, they're not concerned with what there is to be learned
They sell 501s and they think it's funny, turning rebellion into money
Can I kick it?
This songs become a bit irrelevant now, innit, we may as well just go off now. Couple of yous could just get up and we'll just fuck off. I'm into that man, you know, 'cause I've got a hot chocolate waiting for me back there. There's, uh, quite a bit of anti-Criminal Justice Bill sentiment down in front here. Excellent!
What we need is a break from the old routine
(Repeat)
You still want to come? Too late, too late
We're cut and we're fallen like harvested wheat
But we lived on our feet, at least, at last
And we will live on our feet, at least, at last
That's how grateful we are
(Repeat)
You still want to come? Too late, too late
We're cut and we're fallen like harvested wheat
But we lived on our feet, at least, at last
We will live on our feet, at least, at last
That's how grateful we are
That's how grateful
Ta

Homophobia

Ta, a song about how brilliant and how powerful deviant sexuality is
Up behind the bus stop in the toilets of the street
There are traces of a killing on the floor beneath your feet
Mixed in with the piss and beer are bloodstains on the floor
From the boy who got his head kicked in a night or two before
(Chorus)
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who your please
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who your please
In the pubs and clubs and burger bars, breeding pens for pigs
Alcohol, testosterone, and ignorance and fists
Packs of hunting animals roam across the town
And they find an easy victim and they punch him to the ground
(Repeat chorus)
Do, do, do, do
(Repeat)
The siren of the ambulance, the deadpan of the cops
Chalk to mark the outline where the boy first dropped
Beware the holy trinity: church and state and law
For every death the virus gets more deadly than before
(Repeat chorus)
Ta

A Morality Play

People would have to be told that if they refuse to answer questions when they might be expected to answer questions, that is something which can be used at the trial and which might strengthen the case against them.
Hang Michael Howard, oh c'mon...
Act one, the smell of green leather, French polish, quite pristine, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle, not a crease, the silverware all clean. Exquisite chaussures grace marble floors, be upstanding, for men of yore. But wait, who's this, sticky under the collar in Elsinore? Enter silent comedy geek with dynamite down his pants. Nervous, shuffling on his feet, leading a merry song and dance. A back seat driver of good moral fibre, holding up the light. He's made his own bed, now he's got to lie in it. Ho hum, it serves him right.
Act three, 'I am the lord of the dance,' said he. John the Baptist, dripping wet, playing sir politick-would-be. Backslapping, backsliding, back to basic instincts, backfiring. By your own choice you're on a hiding to nothing, I ask you which is more comforting? The thought that I am bad seed, gone to seed, turned sour by TV sex and violence. Or even worse, am I unleashed by my own volition to do you ill? 'Condemn a little more, understand a little less.' Oh sad sir, thou jest! Ha ha! I am Prometheus, prepare thee to meet thy nemesis.
Thanks a lot

Bad Dog

Puppy eyes puppy eyes tearing claws spitting pride
Roll over! Roll over! Roll over! Roll over!
Pretty please pretty play chase away chase away
Nasty nasty snapping nasty biting spitting nasty nasty
Hammer hammer teeth nails sit sit sit sit
Bitch won't beg bitch can't lick bitch can't do those clever tricks
Heel fetch run lie nasty nasty snapping nasty
See these eyes puppy eyes roll on over and die die
Bad dog you bad dog you bad dog you stray dog
Bitch filled up with trouble and spice nasty nice nasty nice
Slip the lead fight fight my bark is softer than my bite
Roll over roll over mock each chewing spewing mouthful
Hammer hammer teeth nails bad dog you bad dog
Good girl pat pat bad dog smack smack
Here's a bitch who'll give it back snap snap snap snap
Puppy eyes will start to play, nasty dog will have its day
This is heaven
This is hell
This is living
This is tale to tell
This is drive wheel
This is cog
This is master
This is snarling dog
This is hammer
This is spanner
This is no sir
This is table manners
This is history
This is how it's been
This is over and over and over and over and over again
Bad dog, good girl
(Repeat)

Stitch That

When I was about fourteen I used to go out with complete dickheads-- blokes that thought they had a right to hit ya. Only I didn't realize, and one day a bloke called young Collet, punched me And I pulled him down by hair and I punched his fucking head in.
A husband came home drunk each night
And he thrashed her black and he thrashed her white
He thrashed her to within an inch of her life
Then he slept like a log, did her husband
As he lay and snored in bed
A strange idea came into her head
She went for the needle and she went for the thread
And straight to her sleeping husband
She started to stitch with a girlish thrill
With a woman's art and a seamstress' skill
She pinned and tucked with an iron will
All around her sleeping husband
Husband awoke with a pain in his head
He found he could not move in bed
"Sweet Christ I've lost the use of me legs!"
Wife just smiled at her husband
Three six nine, he drank wine
He got hooked by a stitch in time
She broke, he got choked and they never went to heaven in a little row boat
Clap clap, clap clap
Clap clap, clap clap
My mother told me, if I was goodie
That she would by me a loaded Uzi
She thrashed him black, she thrashed him blue
With a frying pan and a colander, too
With a rolling pin just a stroke or two
A battered and bleeding husband
Isn't it true what small can do
With a thread and a stitch and a thought or two
He's wiped his slate, his boozing's through
Goodbye to a drunken husband
Kick out the jams, motherfucker!

Mouthful of Shit

We dedicate this song to, uh, Tony Blair
(Chatter)
(Chorus)
Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit
Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit
Do something about it
Can't hear you 'cause your mouth's full of shit
(Repeat chorus)
Well I'm really back to basics right beside a bar
Choke the double trouble big one to the joker with the card
Good call
What's the crack, what's the damage done today
From the commons to the common a banana skin away
Throw it up throw it out
Chuck a nightmare dart
Quiet
Compere on the mic turns turning to the court
Putting beef vol-au-vents across the Union Jack
Bolinger and Bitter says the colonies are back
(Repeat chorus)
You think you're god's gift
You're a liar
I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire
(Repeat)
(Repeat chorus)
Up your ronson take a tab with a flash of Zippo light
See the hit parade passing to the Polaroid's right
Check the manic little rebel with a bottle in his hand
A rhyming manifesto and a butty from his mam
Local lad made bad with cowboy charm
Claims he doesn't really mean every screw-'em-all barb
Pass the mic
Karaoke for the yesteryear stars
Time to weep into your beer 'til the fireworks start
(Repeat Chorus)
You think you're god's gift
You're a liar
I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire
(Repeat)
(Repeat chorus)
Ta

The Day The Nazi Died

We've been doing this one for years but it's still relevant, unfortunately
Revolution!
Open your eyes time to wake up
Enough is enough is enough is enough
We're taught that after the war the Nazis vanished without a trace
But batallions of fascists still dream of a master race
The history books they tell of their defeat in forty-five
But they all come out of the woodwork on the day the Nazi died
They say the prisoner of Spandau was a symbol of defeat
Whilst Hess remained imprisoned and the fascists they were beat
So the promise of an aryan world would never materialise
So why did they all come out of the woodwork on the day the Nazi died
The world is riddled with maggots--the maggots are getting fat
They're making a tasty meal of all the bosses and bureacrats
They're taking over the board rooms and they're fat and full of pride
And they all came out of the woodwork on the day the Nazi died
So if you meet with these historians I'll tell you what to say
Tell them that the Nazis never really went away
They're out there burning houses down and peddling racist lies
And we'll never rest again until every Nazi dies

Timebomb (Jimmy Echo Vocal)

(Chorus 1)
Stop now, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down
Stop now, what's that sound?
Wow!
(Chorus 2)
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
I am a timebomb
A ticking ticking ticking timebomb
Unattended at the railway station
In the litter at the dancehall
Sitting pretty near the fast-food counter
In a backseat of a Vauxhall
Woah
(Repeat chorus 2)
(Repeat chorus 1)
(Repeat chorus 2)
Unattended at the railway station
They're all dancing to the same song
Hear the smashing of your expectations
Hear the shattering of half-rhymes
(Repeat chorus 2)
(Repeat chorus 1)
Gotta stop!
Yeah, stop now, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down
Stop now, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down
(Repeat)
Stop
(Repeat chorus 1)
And all the timebombs
They're all dancing to the same song
In a world full of no-ones
I am someone
(Repeat chorus 2)
(Repeat chorus 1)
(Repeat chorus 1)
London bridge is falling down
Thank you
Mr. Jimmy Echo, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together
Lovely

Slag Aid

This is the last one
Organize, occupy, kick the bastards out
Don't wear the gold lamé
In keeping with the fashion for charity, not change
Here's out contribution--we've called it Slag Aid
For every pop star that we slag off today
Twenty-five million pounds will be given away
Paul McCartney - come on down
With crocodile tears to irrigate this ground
Make of Somalia a fertile paradise
Where everyone sings Beatles songs, buys shares in EMI
A and M
Axl Rose, this is your life
Thank the Lord that you were born white
And thank MTV for this wonderful opportunity
To peddle your hypocrisy
David Bowie, the price is right
With a suitful of compassion and a gobful of shite
Still the voices of those who doubt
Coca-Cola for the peasants
And Michael Jackson, game for a laugh
Dancing us down the garden path
To Beverly Hills nine oh one oh, you know, you know
Fill the world with silver media
Ladies and Gentlemen, our special guest tonight
He's come all the way, put your hands together for Mr. John Lydon
AKA Johnny Rotten
He's got a new book out, no McLaren, no Matlock, no Dignity
Well we got a surprise for him tonight
'Cause we're gonna do the business, and we take no prisoners
'Cause we got the hammer and we got the nails
We got the hammer and we got the nails
We got the hammer and we got the nails
And the two pieces of wood
Put 'em together, folks, and what have we got?
Tonight, live in Leeds, in city square, we've got the two pieces of wood sitting up
You see him hanging there, he's upside down, nice little twist
Because we're gonna nail Mr. Lighton right up to that cross and leave him hanging there
Till the vultures come down and pick his eyes off his can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ha ha ha ha!
Ha ha ha ha!
Ladies and gentlemen, you've been so good
Thank you, on next week's show, the man upstairs
And have we got a bone to pick with him!
Adieu
Thank you very much
Thanks a lot
Cheers
Ta
(Chatter)