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    I hear a little voice
    And it comes whinging in over the sea of a thousand fat faces
    The little voice whinges for something loud and heavy
    A little line of beer running down his chinny-chin
    Oh my god what a fat little skin

    And I smell something cooking
    Something soft, something sweet
    Something completely ridiculous

    In the beginning was the word
    It come to scrape away the shell-shock
    And I says shake it, shake it, shake it
    For another five minutes
    And we are blowing it up like shell-shock

    And to this fabulous waste
    Come and deliver yourselves
    I says come and eat up something
    Deliver yourselves
    With wet cherries on a Blind Snake Sundae

    And to this fabulous waste
    Come and deliver yourself
    Oh come and leave all your food lying down in the dust
    And listen to the Cook-House rock
    I said listen to the Cook-House rock

    Listen to it, listen to it, listen
    Listen to the Cook-House rock

    I hear another little voice, same as before
    Except a little bit poorer and wasted
    Whinging for something loud
    By god you're fat boy, fat
    Beer dribbling down your weak little chin
    I will not let you in

    And yes, again I smell something cooking
    Something small and weak
    And completely ridiculous

    And to this fabulous waste
    Come and deliver yourselves
    I says come and clean up something
    Deliver yourself
    With a wet cherry on a Blind Snake Sundae

    And to this fabulous waste
    Come and deliver yourself
    I says leave all your food lying down in the dust
    And listen to the Cook-House rock

    I says listen to the Cook-House rock
    Listen to it, listen to it, listen

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