Insult Song

White line fever

I got it off the children of Captain Beefheart

They'd been locked in the forest for many years

They could not help it

They were retards from the Los Angeles district

There was Tim

There was Tim 2

There was Rob

There was Dave the Eagle

And the mad Greek woman, The Hydra

It was White Line Fever

Over and over again

Over and over again

They had us trapped in the hills

Playing their Los Angeles music over and over

It sounded like Amon Duul at first

But in fact it was a plot by three of them

We thought they wore masks

Until we asked them to take them off

They took the trout replica a bit too far

They would copy Darkly My Love

They were cool cats

They were White Line Fever

They were a bunch of twats

White Line Fever

White Line Fever

Often on the beach they would play for ever and ever

In the sandy surf of L.A. County

One day they put their sandals on

And decided to go in to Rochdale

They were pretty outta sight

Orpheo, the ancient name from Greece

Orpheo, Tim Presley... how many names did they have?

Nobody knew

Was it Latin?

Was it Yamaha?

Nobody knew

So they traveled like the born again Christians

Or the Jehovah's Witnesses

So they traveled and traveled

Till they reached the holy town of Ro'dale

And Nob End

And Ramsbottom

To find their true wagon, Christianity

They were so happy!

They were so happy, they could not describe it themselves!

Festivals

Sauna in the hotels

Fantastic views of the English countryside

They were besides themselves with happiness

Their tour guide, Dave

Put a stocking over his head, and you couldn't tell the difference

Following their leader blindlessly and obeying in all goodness

The long trail to the Lancashire hilltops

Happy in their fulfillment

Little did they know they were paying by the minute

For the tape they were wasting