Devotchkas Poogly Lyrics:
[The lyrics are taken from the book "A
Clockwork Orange"]
We sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our
rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a dlip
dark chill winter bastard though dry. What they
sold there was milk plus something else. They had
no license for selling liquor, but there was no
law yet against prodding some of the new veshches
which they used to put into the old moloko, so you
could peet it with vellocet or synthemesc or
drencrom or one or two other veshches which would
give you a nice quiet horrorshow fifteen minutes
admiring Bog And All His Holy Angels and SAints in
your left shoe with lights bursting all over your
mozg. There were three devotchkas sitting at the
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counter all together, but there were four of us
malchicks and it was usually like all for all and
one for one. These sharps were dressed in the
heighth of fashion too, with purple and green and
orange wigs on their gullivers, each one not
costing less than three or four weeks of those
sharps' wages, i should reckon, and make-up to
match (rainbows round the glazzies, that is, and
the rot painted very wide). Then they had long
black very straight dresses, and on the groody
part of them they had little badges of like silver
with different malchicks' names on them - Joe and
Mike and suchlike. These were supposed to be the
names of different malchicks they'd spatted with
before they were fourteen. There was a doddery
starry schoolmaster type veck, glasses on and his
rot open to the cold nochy air. He looked a
malenky bit poogly, then he-- hahaha. What the
fuck does "poogly" mean? I dunno but
this Anthony Burgess guy sure seems to like it.
Lyrics: Poogly, Devotchkas [end]