|The Soft Boys||The Portland Arms||Cambridge||England||UK||11/01/1978|
|Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians||Northern Lights Records||Minneapolis||Minnesota||US||03/26/1986|
|Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians||First Avenue||Minneapolis||Minnesota||US||03/26/1986|
|Robyn Hitchcock & the Egyptians||Tower Records||New York||New York||US||10/30/1986|
I trudg-ed out one mornin' fair, me system to arouse, I met the maid in deep despair who told me of her vows 'I'm pledged unto the Duke of Squeeze, I shall be his tonight, O wandering sir, do aid me please!' and vanished from my sight. I thought of this young maiden oft, she sought me at her leisure, And in her ma's banana-loft we used to take our pleasure Her mother tried to force the door, I smoked beneath the sheets (natch), 'The Duke of Squeeze is 'ere,' she swore, 'he's brung his mighty fleet!' And we sang 'Fal-de-drat! Fal-de-drat! That mean-old lean-old in-between-old half-unclean-old Duke of Squeeze!' 'O flee, my pet, and get thee hence; don't tarry on the coast The Duke has bet me fifteen pence he'd have your bits on toast!' 'My bits!' I cry, 'For my own sake, what kind of man is he?' 'A dreadful one, and no mistake, so off ye gang!' said she. I scrambled through the aubergines and trampled o'er the brook, But wit' he brought the submarines; thinks I, 'I'll have a look!' In lowering hail the vessels move across the briny sea, The teabag-spattered mermaids proved the Duke had had his tea! And we sang 'Fal-de-drat! Fal-de-drat! That mean-old lean-old in-between-old half-unclean-old Duke of Squeeze!' For six long weeks I lay as dead in some outlandish field, But when I rose from my straw bed, the weather had congealed... The bonny sun from up on high, it dried out my old hat, However when I look-ed 'round, I saw that all was flat. Crushed were the hills, and bent the sod; downtrodden was the vale A steamroller this way has passed by Guinness and strong ale... To my truelove's house I did go, but nothing could I find But pancakes walking to and fro, and a talking Venetian blind! And we sang 'Fal-de-drat! Fal-de-drat! That mean-old lean-old in-between-old half-unclean-old Duke of Squeeze!' 'The Duke of Squeeze ha' done this thing for VENGEANCE!' they all cried, 'Go fight him with a burning ring until his bits are fried!' Through seven counties I will search, cleaver in hand I'll roam, And if I don't prise him from his perch, I'll flush him from his 'ome! And we'll sing 'Fal-de-drat! Fal-de-drat! That mean-old lean-old in-between-old half-unclean-old Duke of Squeez-AH!'