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