Tom Smith - DS8 lyrics
It's been years since he first manifested,
It's been years since we last heard a peep,
But today he's tanned, ready, and rested --
Let the whole world beware of the sheep!
Down in the bowels of Hell, where the jowls of
Fiends emit howls of unending pain,
Dwells a dark herbivore, thirsty for blood and gore,
Pity there is'nt more stuff in his brain.
Savage and sullen, wily and woolen, and
Hoping to pull one more over our eyes,
Jealous of demons who make people scream on the
Multiplex screen, and he's planned a surprise.
Movie fans just got lucky,
It's the villains you all love to hate:
It's Freddy and Jason, Mike Myers, and Chucky --
In Death Sheep 8!
Fenton was ravin' of horror film mavens, all
Worthless and craven, before him they'd bow,
So perfect a plot, an idea so hot, and what
Matter he'd not the first clue as to how.
But then he remembered his sweet glowing ember of
Love for a member of female sheepkind,
The Goddess of Vulgah, the Queen of the Bolgia -- he'd
Go and ask Olga what she had in mind.
Jamie Lee said "Forget it",
Neve Campbell made up a hot date,
But give us eight bucks and you'll never regret it,
It's Fenton in Death Sheep 8.
Slowly the plan went in motion,
Scottish sheep blood with one little jab,
Infused with alchemical potions,
And used in a genetics lab.
Fertilized eggs became beings,
Until Fenton, one morning in spring,
Could not believe what he was seeing,
And, all teary-eyed, started to sing:
(Tune: "Hello Dolly")
Well, Hell-o, Dollies, well, hello, Dollies,
It's so nice to have you here where you belong.
You're looking swell, Dollies, here in Hell, Dollies,
You're a horde of demon sheep, a hundred... thou-sand strong.
I feel the room quaking from the knees shaking
On those horror movie villains who pretend,
Get into your grooves, ladies,
Trample 'em with your hooves, ladies,
Wipe out all those cinema shmucks,
Let 'em know their genre sucks,
And who'll be left to get the bucks?
(Tune: "Along Came Jones")
About this time, they got someone to remake Psycho 3 --
If it didn't get to film, it'd run on U.S.A. TV --
Down at the mock-up Bates Motel,
Norm tried on his mother's hat:
"'My mother made me do it all' -- what the heck was that!?"
And there was a rumble (and then?)
And the doors burst open (and then?)
And a hundred thousand voices all said, "BAAAAAA!"
And then along came clones, demon sheep clones,
Blood-spewing clones, cud-chewing clones,
Along came big, mean, na-a-asty clones.
With Hollywood trampled, ol' Fenton has sampled the
Blessings most ample of media hype,
Thought it was groovy, then put down his hoof -- he
Controls every movie, and, God, they're all tripe.
That, of course, brings us, to why I must sing this,
Won't someone please spring us from this awful fate?
Science or blarney, Bruce Willis or Arnie,
I'd even take Barney -- It's not yet too late.
There's no other explanation
For Godzilla, Deep Impact, Stargate --
Won't somebody somewhere come rescue the nation,