I hear a little voice   And it comes winging 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   Winging 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