(S. Rists)
We're Pommy's band, a gang of four
Playing our instruments all bloody night
Yelling all evening 'til our throats are sore
And strutting our stuff in front of the lights
My name's Steve, I play the bass
While the others wail and moan
I grab a bottle and get slowly wasted
And if I ever do sing, it's in a monotone
Hi I'm Jimmy and I play the drums
Hitting them all night with my huge sticks
I tried guitar, but can't even strum
Besides, everyone knows guitarists are pricks
The name is Angus, what do I play?
No, I don't play, I MANIPULATE..
My guitar is my tool, that's what I say
Anything that comes out of it just has to be great.
And I'm Pommy, leader of the band
Writing six six sick songs to sing
I'm deaf dumb and blind so they lend me a hand
When it comes to fitting my guitar with new strings.
We have a gig at least once a year
Borrow big amps so we can be loud
Remember that time the audience cheered
When Steve suddenly threw up all over the crowd
Now vomit's a regular part of our act
Though our critics describe it as sick
Vomit, sick, spew, I'd agree that's a fact
It's just a pity our music is shit
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