Frank Zappa (guitar, synclavier) Steve Vai
(guitar) Ray White (guitar, vocals) Tommy Mars
(keyboards) Chuck Wild (piano) Arthur Barrow
(bass) Scott Thunes (bass) Jay Anderson (string
bass) Ed Mann (percussion) Chad Wackerman (drums)
Ike Willis (vocals) Terry Bozzio (vocals) Dale
Bozzio (vocals) Napoleon Murphy Brock (vocals) Bob
Harris (vocals) Johnny "Guitar" Watson
(vocals)

HARRY: JESUS, that was terrific! I've never
experienced anything quite like that in a theater
before! How 'bout you, RHONDA?

RHONDA: You're a worm, HARRY. Drop dead. God,
you're disgusting! Don't touch me! YUCK! What is
this scum on your chest? Did that little rubber
MAMMY 'do something' on you?

THING-FISH: (alarmed) OB'DEWLLA! You lil' vagrant!
What you been up to wit de chump over deahh? Lemme
see yo' draw's! Uh-HUHHHH! Jes' couldn't hep
y'seff, could ya! Pheww! You best be washin' dat
thang off, dahlin'! I knows we's sposed ta be
un-DESTRUCTABLE, but what you got ripenin' down
dere be puttin' us all to DE TEST! Yow!

The EVIL PRINCE tap-dances over to THING-FISH,
HARRY & RHONDA.

EVIL PRINCE: (fake Broadway singing) Pers'nally,
dahlin', I found de pre-formnence Wit de
brief-case To be un-creedably stim-u-lat-nin'!

RHONDA: Eat shit, you overbearing male chauvinist
member of the scientific community!

THING-FISH: What a sweet lil' hunk o' heaven she
growed up t'be! When she were deflateable, she
dint say nothin'...jes kept her face open like
dis... waitin' fo de salami dat never 'rived! Now
she fuckin' de briefcase, dumpin' de paper all
over de flo', hair up in a ugly ol' bun, fountain
pen danglin' out her asshole, an' talkin' dirty to
a member o' de ROYAL FAM'LY!

Girl! Dis cocksucker mights be EVIL, but he AM a
PRINCE! Now he be talkin' de vernak-luh, I's
findin' it consid'rubly mo' cornvemient to in-
demnify wit his 'point-o-view!

EVIL PRINCE: Sho' nuff! Um-hmm! Yeah! You a WISE
ol' MAMMY! Where you fum, 'rijnlyy?

THING-FISH: Why...uh...SAINT LOOMIS!

EVIL PRINCE: Goddam! I knew it! I knew it! I could
jes' make it out from yo' renunciation! Sho' get
hot down deahh in de summer time!

THING-FISH: DAT no lie...people be croakin' all
over de fuckin' place! I sees y'all like dat sort
o' thang...jedgin' fum yo' wa'd-robe, y'all be
WELL INTO death 'n pestilence 'n shit! Prob'ly got
yo-seff quite some 'spensive educashnin' goin' fo
ya!

EVIL PRINCE: Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Heh-heh! Saint
Loomis! Damn! Some de ZOMBY-FOLK up de lab-mo-tory
got kin deah!

THING-FISH: Naw! Really? Cain't be!

EVIL PRINCE: Oh hell yeah! De ugly dead
muthafucker on de string deahh...he related to a
buncha other ugly dead muthafuckers fum de East
Side...'n de curly-headed sho't lil' ugly dead
muthafucker wit de dead dog been fuckin' de police
commissioner!

THING-FISH: How you know so much 'bouts what gwine
on down deahh, you EVIL COCKSUCKER! Y'all been
stayin' quite well un-formed fum bein' in de
lab-mo-tory most yo' time!

EVIL PRINCE: Jes' might distress yo ass to loin
dat on de way home fum de SAN QUENTIM 'tater
mashin' 'speri- ment, me 'n de country westin
muzishnins' drop by de college to receive an
honorary degree!

THING-FISH: You lyin', boy! Dey givin' degrees in
'TATER HUSBANDRY' back de ol' alma-motta!

EVIL PRINCE: Dat ALL dey givin' any mo'!
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/VGAMuthafuckin' 'TATER HUSBANDRY' be de wave o' de
futchum in Saint Loomis! Graduatin' class were
over 700, 'n evvy one of 'em dealin' wit dem
'taters like de shrimp-murderers down at
Benny-Hanny's!

THING-FISH: (looking down at OB'DEWLLA) What? Huh?
You wanna what? OB'DEWLLA, de PRINCE jes' be
shootin' de home-town shit heahh! He ain't gwine
give us no mo' provlem! What you mean, girl? Okay,
okay! Go 'head 'n fuck de lil' CRAB-GRASS BABY wit
de enormous white pompadour! Go on deah. Git down
wit yo' nasty lil' ol' degenerate seff!

THING-FISH puts the CRAB-GRASS BABY on the floor
and positions OB'DEWLLA over it. He places his
foot on OB'DEWLLA'S back and pumps both of them up
and down. As the computer- speech drones on,
THING-FISH watches the spectacle, commenting...

THING-FISH: (contd.) Twist 'n shout! Work it on
out ('n in)! Hmmm! Get down! Go on! Give him a
little shoe! Dat's what Denny be doin'...work on
Jumbo evvy time! Go on! Get de lil' pompadour up
in de air again! I like dat part! Hmmm! Jes' like
de Olympics!

HARRY: It's-it's fascinating the way things are
resolving themselves around here! I-I never would
have sus- pected anything like this when we came
in!

RHONDA: Where are your real clothes, HARRY? Are
you going back to Long Island like that?

HARRY: I have nothing to be ashamed of! I have a
LOVELY body. Everyone will understand! I've-I've
ACCOM- PLISHED something tonight! I really believe
that! I've found a sort of fulfilment other men
only DREAM about!

RHONDA: (naked, re-stuffing the briefcase) You've
accomplished NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL! You're a
MERE WORM...less than that...you're a useless
ALL-AMERICAN 'MAN-WORM'! The most disgusting
creature on the face of the earth. Phooey on you!
Worms like you would be NOTHING without ME and MY
KIND! WE are THE FUTURE, HARRY! Not you! WE don't
need YOU and YOUR KIND, because OUR KIND is THE
BEST KIND!

MAN-KIND is SHIT, HARRY! OUR KIND will get rid of
YOUR KIND, just like wiping off this fountain pen,
HARRY! Smell it quick, you submissive little
cocksucker, 'cause I'm wiping it off... any minute
now!

THIS IS SYMBOLISM, HARRY! Really DEEP, INTENSE,
THOUGHT-PROVOKING BROADWAY SYMBOLISM! THIS ISN'T
'DREAM GIRLS', HARRY! This is the way it REALLY
IS...I'm talking to you, HARRY! WE HATE YOU! WE
are MODERN, HARRY! You are not 'MODERN'! Worms are
not MODERN!

While YOU became LAWYERS and ACCOUNTANTS, and read
PLAYBOY and bought a pipe, WE PLANNED and DREAMED
and FUCKED OUR BRIEFCASES while you weren't
looking! Yes, HARRY! That's right! And we've
actually been able to REPRODUCE OURSELVES THAT
WAY...FOR YEARS, HARRY, but YOU NEVER KNEW! Did
you? You worm.

We had SPECIAL ATOMIC GLASSES made...by WOMEN
OPTOMETRISTS who promised NEVER to TELL!

We learned how to hide SECRET STUFF, wrapped up in
the middle of those severe terminal BUNS we wear!
Little TRANSMITTERS, HARRY! Little RECEIVERS!
Oh...don't pretend to be surprised, HARRY! We even
had ROOM LEFT OVER in there for all of our most
favorite little embroidered delicate secretly
feminine child-like helpless pathetic sentimental
totally useless PERSONAL 'GIRL-THINGS' that smell
like the stuff they put in the toilet paper. You
played GOLF! You watched FOOTBALL! You drank BEER!
We EVOLVED! We only look like WANDAS and RHONDAS!
We are SUPERB, HARRY! We are SUBLIME! We are
perfect in EVERY WAY! And you? What are you? You
are the all-American cocksucker...jizzing all over
your leather cocksucker costume after beating the
snot out of yourself with a rubber MAMMY!

I simply can't respect you, HARRY! You are NO
GOOD. Go ahead! Smell the pen! Go on...I'm wip-
ing it HARRY...there you go...