Shave Tipper Gore Dry (unexpurgated version)

Monday, 25 December 2006

Mercury wins, hands down

Just in time for the baby Jesus’ birth.

Art has always, always, always been dirty; and violent, but that’s for another bedtime story. In case the ridiculous prudes in the audience who believe that music only got dirty in the last 20 years or so are willing to take the red pill today, we offer the mp3 and lyric sheet of “Shave ’Em Dry.”

The Rolling Stones created a bit of a stir when they had a radio hit which contained the phrase, “You make a dead man come.” Like almost everything you monkeys start flinging crap over, the tihsy fit was at least 50 years late.

Now your nuts hang down like a damn bell sapper,
And your dick stands up like a steeple,
Your goddamn ass-hole stands open like a church door,
And the crabs walks in like people. Lucille Bogan, “Shave ’em Dry” (1935)

This is what the blues sounded like three generations before your kids started using rap artists to scare you into keeping your distance. My, my. Hey, hey.

Shave ’Em Dry

Shave ’Em Dry

I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb,
I got somethin’ between my legs’ll make a dead man come,
Oh, daddy, baby won’t you shave ’em dry?

Now, draw it out!

Want you to grind me, baby, grind me until I cry.

[Roland: Uh, huh.]

Say I fucked all night, and all the night before, baby,
And I feel just like I wanna, fuck some more,
Oh, great God, daddy.

[Roland: Say you gonna get it. You need it.]

Grind me honey and shave me dry,
And when you hear me holler baby, want you to shave it dry.
I got nipples on my titties, big as the end of my thumb,
Daddy, you say that’s the kind of ’em you want,
and you can make ’em come,
Oh, daddy shave me dry.

[Roland: She ain’t gonna work for it.]

And I’ll give you somethin’ baby,
Swear it’ll make you cry.
I’m gon’ turn back my mattress,
And let you oil my springs,
I want you to grind me daddy, till the bell do ring,
Oh, daddy, want you to shave ’em dry,
Oh, great God daddy,
If you can’t shave ’em baby won’t you try?
Now if fuckin’ was the thing,
That would take me to heaven,
I’d be fuckin’ in the studio,
Till the clock strike eleven,
Oh daddy, daddy shave ’em dry,
I would fuck you baby, honey I’d make you cry.
Now your nuts hang down like a damn bell sapper,
And your dick stands up like a steeple,
Your goddamn ass-hole stands open like a church door,
And the crabs walks in like people.

Ow, shit!

[Roland: Aah, sure enough, shave ’em dry?]

Ooh! Baby, won’t you shave ’em dry

A big sow gets fat from eatin’ corn,
And a pig gets fat from suckin’,
Reason you see this whore, fat like I am,
Great God, I got fat from fuckin’.

Eeeeh! Shave ’em dry.

[Roland: Aah, shake it, don’t break it.]

My back is made of whalebone,
And my cock is made of brass,
And my fuckin’ is made for workin’ men’s two dollars,
Great God, round to kiss my ass.

Oh! Whoo, daddy, shave ’em dry.

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Discussion

Comments


anne

Re: Shave Tipper Gore Dry (unexpurgated version)

i would like to hear your version of that other bedtime story .... , merry merry , lovely song ash , lesley

By anne on 26 December 2006 · 19:31
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