Then youíre in a world pain,
Chewing bacca next to hard man Blain.
On a chopper with the Dutch,
Doesnít Arnie look so butch.
Up in the hills on a summer night,
Half canned we tried to re-enacted their fight.
I was Dutch and Nick was blain,
Tom did not want to play the game.
Rich must have been Billyboy,
But disappeared into the night,
Or did he go for a crafty shite.
Marcus Curtius was in complete utter despair,
With his chaffing underwear.
We drank till darkness fell,
It was a bloody hell.
I couldnít see, the light was bad,
But nobody died it wasnít sad.
As I looked back in fading light,
I nearly had a horrible fright,
I swear I saw the Predator swing,
And his laser zooming thing.
It could have been ten pints of shit welsh beer,
Or maybe something man hunting deer.
Back at base we lit a fire,
To keep away the howling sheep,
I didnít get a single wink of sleep.
Halfway through this dreadful night,
I legged it for a f*ckin shite.
The bog was full just like the moon,
I had to dock the shit just like a rocket,
And use a single tissue from my pocket.
The Predator stayed at bay,
Waiting for another day.
So when the heat of summer comes again,
We're off to Wales to play are game.
Night of the Demon
ď WALKS ON,
AND TURNS NO MORE HIS HEAD
BECAUSE HE KNOWS,
A FRIGHTFUL FIEND DOTH
CLOSE BEHIND HIM TREAD ď
The Demon in whitehouse.
He lives in the whitehouse on Sparky Lane,
He thinks heís the president,-- quite insane.
A fucking old grumpy git,
That flies into a raging fit,
If someone parks on his bit,
Then they will get loads of shit.
Canít you see the sign -KEEP OFF-you swine,
And park elsewhere cos I donít care.
The lanes my patch and I am daddy,
So donít park here or Iíll have a paddy.
But one time when rushing back ,
I park my car just by his shack.
He cast a curse so fast, that would make,
That night my very last.
As I was listening to my tunes he pushed,
A letter of ancient runes,
Through the door it fell upon floor,
And burnt away forever more.
The following night the Demon came,
With gnashing teeth it called my name.
I ran through Bluebell woods late that night,
A fiery Demon giving flight.
I begged him to undone the Demon curse,
But this only made it fucking worse.
In seven days you will die,
And join the Demon in the sky.
Poor Albert-map his face went red,
And he did crap,on Saturday next I will die,
Can no one help me with this problem,
Maybe I should ring the Goblin.
So beware the Curse of Sparky Lane,
And the Demon bringing pain.
or is it just - a Fuckin tale,
Written by a blubber whale.
Was this tale of horror,
ďNight of DemonĒ you did borrow,
A similar story but with different names,
Was written by a Mr James.