Packard Goose

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Contents

Lyrics

Act III

SCENE SIXTEEN
PACKARD GOOSE

(Joe clutches the hood ornament of an ancient car.)

JOE:
Maybe you thought I was the Packard Goose (ren-denen-den-eh)
Or the Ronald MacDonald of the nouveau-abstruse
Well fuck all them people, I don't need no excuse
For being what I am
Do you hear me, then?

All them rock 'n' roll writers is the worst kind of sleaze
Selling punk like some new kind of English disease
Is that the wave of the future? Aw, spare me please!

Oh no, you gotta go
Who do you write for, I wanna know?
I believe you is the government's whore
And keeping peoples dumb (I'm really dumb)
Is where you're coming from
And keeping peoples dumb (I'm really dumb)
Is where you're coming from

Fuck all them writers with the pen in their hand
I will be more specific so they might understand
They can all kiss my ass but because it's so grand
They best just stay away
Hey, hey, hey

Hey, Joe, who did you blow?
Who pushed the button boy and you went to the show?
Better suck a little harder or the shekels won't flow
And I don't mean your thumb (Don't mean your thumb)
So on your knees you bum
Just tell yourself it's yum (Yourself it's yum)
And suck it 'til you're numb

Journalism's kinda scary
And of it we should be wary
Wonder what became of Mary?

(And no sooner has he wondered, a vision of Mary appears to him, delivering a little lecture...)

VOICE OF MARY'S VISION:
Hi! It's me, the girl from the bus. Remember? The last tour? Well, information is not knowledge, knowledge is not wisdom, wisdom is not truth, truth is not beauty, beauty is not love, love is not music, music is the best! Wisdom is the domain of the Wizz (which is extinct). Beauty is a French phonetic corruption of a short cloth neck ornament currently in resurgence.

(And no sooner has she spoken (which is awkward and probably incorrect but what the fuck), enormous flabby short cloth neck ornament obscure the horizon in a multitude, beating their ugly wings and working their hidden chrome snap attachments as they resurge in the direction of the White Zone seeking snack material near the Utensil Shrines of Greater America...)

JOE:
If you're in the audience and like what we do
Well, we want you to know that we like you all too
But as for the sucker who will write the review

If his mind is prehensile (Mind is prehensile)
He'll put down his pencil (Put down his pencil)
And have himself a squat on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil)
Give it all you got on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil)
Sit 'n' spin until you rot on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil)
He really needs to squat on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil)

Now that I got that over with
I'll just play my imaginary guitar again
Hey... hah... soundin' pretty good there, me!
Ah... get down... UH!
Boy, what an imagination!
Love myself better than I love myself...
I think...
What tone!
Sounds like an Elegant Gypsy!
What is that?
Musk?
It's hip!

Players On This Song

Napoleon Murphy Brock

Records On Which This Song Has Appeared

Singles

Zappa Albums & Side Projects

Tribute & Cover Albums

Notes About This Song

CC Clues In This Song

  • References "What is that? Musk? It's hip!" from Dental Hygiene Dilemma.
  • The liner notes mention that "enormous flabby short cloth neck ornaments" work their "hidden chrome snap attachments"
  • Ties are hinted at: "Beauty is a French phonetic corruption of a short cloth neck ornament". (A pun on "Bow-tie")
  • References Gypsies: "Sounds like an elegant gypsy".
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