Stephen Lynch Medieval Bush

Come fair lady to mine bed we go

And verily sweet pleasures we shall know

Yet where thy belly meets thy limb

I beseech thee give a trim

For thy bush doth overflow

My lady doth have a 70s muff

A 1470s muff, hmm?

Zounds! It’s as prickly as a Christmas wreath

Think it might hide some baby birds beneath

Pray shave it off to make a coat

There are fur balls down mine throat

Short and curlies twixt my teeth

I sayeth not thy vagina is hirsute

But it lookest like thou hast Buckwheat in a leg lock, hmm?

But soft what hair through yonder girdle grows

To be or not to be put in cornrows

Oh it is beastly and unruly

And it smelleth of patchouli

And that offends my nose

I sayeth not that thou art furry down there

But it doth resemble Fidel Castro eating a London broil, hmm?



Medieval Bush

Stephen Lynch Lorelei


Lorelei had lazy eyes

Straight ahead she would stare

And still see shit over there with her lazy eyes


Anabel had an odd odd odd smell

Cigarettes and gin

With some ball sweat mixed in

Such an odd odd smell

Dona Ruth

Dona Ruth had a snaggletooth

Her smile would win her no fans

But she could open some cans

With her snaggletooth

Marie Claire

Marie Claire had long long red hair

Soft and silky I swear

But her asshole is wear

She had long red hair

Oh these ladies were lovely

So I don’t now why

I sent them all packing

Yeah I let them all fly

Oh I should be cool

Give them another try

Except for the one with the lazy eyes

Can’t get past that one


Rosario was from Mexico

There’s nothing wrong with that

But her ankles where fat

So she had to go

Nothing wrong with that

But her ankles were fat

So she had to go

Stephen Lynch Vanilla Ice Cream

Have a seat and listen,

Please don’t say a thing.

In matters of the heart sometimes,

The truth will have a sting.

Just don’t take it personally:

This is no attack.

But we will never last, because I’m white

And you are… also white.

I only like black girls, the brown girls, the café au lait.

Oh, caramel girls and mocha girls just blow me away.

If you’re a nubian,

I want you to be in

Every fantasy,

But if you’re a whitey,

Say nighty-nighty,

You’re just not the girl for me.

Oh, I hate vanilla ice cream, I like chocolate instead.

I hope she likes her soul food with a little Wonder Bread.

Don’t call it Jungle Fever, ’cause that just isn’t right.

I am not a racist: some of my best friends are white.

I just prefer black girls, the brown girls, the café au lait.

Oh, caramel girls and mocha girls just blow me away.

If you’re a cracker,

You better get blacker,

Or else you best get out.

It is no mystery,

I like a sister, see,

That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Our wedding song will be “Ebony and Ivory”,

And we’ll sing Christmas carols ’round the old Kwanza tree.

But color is not the issue here: it’s dignity, it’s class.

It’s all about her heart. … OK, it’s partly about that ass!

I want me some black girl, the brown girl, the café au lait.

Oh, caramel girls and mocha girls just blow me away.

If you’re a honkey,

You’re singin’ the wrong key,

It’s the honest truth.

The skin that she’s dwellin’ in

Must contain melanin:

That is the Fountain of Youth.

Thomas Jefferson.

Robert DeNiro.

David Bowie.

To a certain extent… Ted Dansen.

Strom Thurmond!! Strom Thurmond!! Yeeeahh…

Stephen Lynch Walken III


Whose guitars are these? Move them around. I have to be honost with you Stephen…Lynch…if that is your real name. I heard the whole album. Look ur doughter lullaby it started sweet u had me you had me at the low. But daddy likes hokers beers all that. What kind of man are you. Singing that to your daughter. Sure a beautiful voice but I feel naucious maybe it is the crown royal.. I don’t think so I think it is Stephen Lynch.

Hey Lynch!


Have you seen my cat?


My cat have you seen my cat?

Ummm no?

[here it sings kill a kitten]

Stephen Lynch Tall Glass O’ Water


She’s a tall glass’o water.

She’s sippen lemonade.

She’s a cup of hot targe tnt

She’s a cold thang in the shade.

She’s an oatmeal cookie.

She’s a crumble of melted toast..

She’s the cream of an oreo cookie..

That’s the part…

That I like the most.

She’s a half bowl of bear nuts.

She’s a cold bottle of blitz.

She’s a tub of pepto bismal

Whenever I give the HOW YA DOING ALL!!!!!

Stephen Lynch Hallelujah

I want to write you a poem

That stands the test of all time

A couplet, a quatrain, a ballad, a note

With meter and rythym and rhyme

I want it to speak of your virtue

Sing praise to your stature and poise

I want it to capture your beauty

The soul that’s alive in your voice

I want it to tell of your wisdom

How the courage within your heart soars

But all I can think of is how I be lovin’

Them big, big, big titties of yours

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, how my heart sings

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, love those things

They bounce like a kid on a trampoline

They swing like a 40’s jazz band

They stand up like a rock-solid alibi

They don’t even fit in my hand

They curve like a pitch in the big leagues

They burn with a passion so hot

And that is the reason I can’t wait to squeeze ’em

Them big, big, big titties you got

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, love’s in the air

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, what a pair

Oh I need to kneed them like sculptors kneed clay

They dance in my dreams in a graceful ballet

I’ll kiss them so sweetly goodnight at the end of the day

They’re firm like a John Grisham novel

They swell like a wave in the sea

No matter what part of the room that I’m in

They’re always looking at me

They’re soft like the cheek of a baby

They’re sweet like the honey of bees

I’ll never ignore them, I’ll even adore them

Someday when they’re touching your knees

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, what a rack

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, hurt your back

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, on my knees

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, double d’s

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, glory be

Oh, Hallelujah

Oh, set them free

Stephen Lynch Jim Henson’s Dead

Pokemon’s a silly faze

Barney’s now just purple haze

The Power Rangers lost their will to fight

Yeah the pigs in space, they rule the sky

And Oscar’s still a grouchy guy

And Animal is looking dyno-mite

Oh Jim Henson’s dead and gone

But his muppets will live on

And Kermit’s still hot, ’cause it’s still not

Easy being, green

Bert is mad ’cause Ernie can’t hear

With a banana in his ear

They must learn how to cooperate

Yeah The Count is counting One Two Three

And no one laughs at poor Fozzie

And Scooter’s pissed ’cause Raulf is always late

Oh Jim Henson’s dead and gone

But his muppets will live on

And Kermit’s still hot, ’cause it’s still not

Easy being 1 2 3 4 5, 6 7 8 9 10, 11, 12

Now Miss Piggy’s just a big slab of pork

To the Swedish Chef who says “Mmm, pork pork pork”

And Cookie Monster wants another, bite

Yeah and Big Bird well he just can’t see

Why the two old guys in the balcony

Think Snufalufagus is out of, site

Oh Jim Henson’s dead and gone

But his muppets will live on

And Kermit’s still hot, ’cause it’s still not

Easy being, green

Oh Jim Henson’s dead and gone

But his muppets will live on

And Kermit’s still hot, ’cause it’s still not

Easy being, green

Easy being green, no

Stephen Lynch Dear Diary 3

Dear Diary,

Today was a fine day

I got the music in my soul

I’m writing songs and making records

I feel my life is finally whole

I can’t wait to tell my father

To see what he will say

Peace and love diary,

Marvin Gaye

Stephen Lynch Down At The Old Pub Instead

Lad, it’s your duty to find ye a lass

With child-bearing hips and a pink, supple ass

And make her your wife, and love her with love so true

Now some rivers run high, some rivers run low

When her river runs red and shes starting her flow

And it’s called menstruation, and here’s what it means to you

You will notice her bloomers are spotty at first

Stand back, her ovarian dam’s gonna burst

Son, don’t be afraid, it’s a natural thing

Just wad up some cotton and hand her some string

Put the old linens on top of the bed

Get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead

She’ll retain her water, her breasts’ll be tender

And every third word that you say will offend her

Get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead

And she’ll want to make love, if you do you’re a fool

‘Cause you’ll only end up with a bloody O’Toole

Get out of the house, down to the old pub instead

And she’ll want you to sample the fruit of her loins

But son, it’ll taste like some old rusty coins

So turn off the lights, boy, and take off your hat

And drop to your knees, say a prayer to Saint Pat

That he’ll give you the strength to get out of bed

And for Ireland’s sake, go down to the old pub instead

Now the pub is the place where the lads are a’meeting

When the moon’s full and the gals are a’bleeding

The catholic, the protestants, even the pagan

The pub is the place when your lady is raggin’

So drink up your pint, boys, and thank your shamrocks

That as menfolk we don’t have’ta bleed from our cocks

And that we can escape from the lady in red

And get out of the house and go down to the old pub instead

Stephen Lynch Lullaby

Hush little girl

Sweet baby dont cry, tonight

Daddy is here and he’ll sing you a soft lullaby, tonight

Why cant it all be like it was before

How can I explain why mommy’s not here anymore

Cause daddy likes porno and $10 whores

Daddy gets wasted and robs liquor stores

Daddy likes rubbing against little boys on the bus

I think thats why your mommy left us, mommy left us

Hush little girl

There is no reason to fret, tonight

Don’t mind the smoke, daddy just wants to forget, tonight

Soon it will all be like it was before

Any minute, she will walk through that front door

But daddy plays poker and drinks lots of beer

Then he wants sex that involves mommy’s rear

Daddy has sores on his naughty parts oozing with pus

I think thats why mommy left us

Please don’t cry

I swear I’ll try

To be here by your side

Right after daddy gets home from the bar

Visits his bookee

And steals a new car

He’ll drive to the strip club

And if daddy plays his cards right

He’ll bring home your new mommy tonight