Frank Zappa's 200 Motels

Theodore Bikel:
Ladies and gentlemen!

Chorus:
200 motels

Theodore Bikel:
200 motels . . . Life on the road!

Theodore Bikel:
Ladies and gentlemen! and here is . . .

Chorus:
Who?

Theodore Bikel:
Larry the dwarf!
Larry likes to dress up funny
Tonight he's dressed up like Frank Zappa
Let's ask him "What's the deal?"

Say!

Ow! Look out!
Ow! Look out!
Ow! Look out!

How long?
How long?
Till that mystery roach be arrivin' soon
Ya-ooo Ya-ooo Ya-ooo Ya-ooo

That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!

How long?
How long?
Till that mystery roach been gone
Ya-ooo-ooo-oo-ooo
Ya-ooo-ooo-oo-ooo

That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!
That mystery roach be approachin'
That mystery roach be approachin' me
La La La La La La La, Oof!

Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!

. . . once in a minute . . .

Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!
Mystery mystery mystery mystery
mystery mystery mystery roach!

Howard:
Ah! Hold it!
Wait a minute!
Stop that music!
Please . . .
Hold it!
Wait a minute!
Ah . . .
What are we SINGING about?
A mystery roach?
We must be . . . FLIPPING OUT!

 

This town
This town
This town we're in is just a
Sealed Tuna Sandwich with the wrapper glued
We get a few in every tour
I think we've played this one before.

This town
This town
Is a Sealed Tuna Sandwich
Sealed Tuna Sandwich
With the wrapper glued
It's by baloney on the rack
It goes for 40 cents a whack
It's just a place for us to play
To help us pay
The cost of the tickets back to L.A.
The cost of the tickets back to L.A.
The cost of the tickets back to L.A.

All the people in the Sandwich Town
Think the place is great
What if part of it's crumbling down?
Most of them prob'ly won't be 'round . . .

They'll either be dead
Or moved to San Francisco
(Where everybody thinks they're Heavy Business . . .
But it's just a Tuna Sandwich from another catering service . . .)

 

This town
This town
This town we're in is just a
Sealed Tuna Sandwich with the wrapper glued
We get a few in every tour
They're always such a fucking bore

I CAN'T WAIT TILL WE BLOW THIS TOWN AND WORK A PLACE WITH SOME LOCAL HOT ACTION!

This town
This town
Is a Sealed Tuna Sandwich
Sealed Tuna Sandwich
With the wrapper glued
(WITH THE WRAPPER GLUED!)
It's by baloney on the rack
Rant-tant-tant
Tant-tant-tant
Tant-tant-tant
It goes for 40 cents a whack
It's just a rancid little snack
In a plastic bag
From a matron in La Habra with a blown-out crack
WHO DIES TO SUCK THE FRINGE OFF OF JIMMY CARL BLACK!

My name is Burtram
I am a redneck
All my friends,
They call me 'Burt'
(Hi, Burt!)
All my family,
From down in Texas
Make their livin'
Diggin' dirt

Come out here to Californy,
Just to find me
Some pretty girls
Ones I seen
Gets me so horny;
Ruby lips,
'N teeth like pearls!

Wanna love 'em all!
Wanna love 'em dearly!
Wanna pretty girl—
I'll even pay!
I'll buy 'em furs!
I'll buy 'em jewelry!
I know they like me;
Here's what I say:

I'm lonesome Cowboy Burt!
(Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt!
(Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants,
My cowboy dance,
My bold advance,
On this here waitress . . .
Yodel-oh-oo-pee-hey
Yodel-oh-oo-pee!

(He's lonesome Cowboy Burt
Don'tcha get his feelings hurt)
Come on in this place,
'N I'll buy you a taste,
You can sit on my face—
Where's my waitress?

Burtram, Burtram redneck
Burtram, Burtram redneck

I'm an awful nice guy!
Sweat all day in the sun!
Roofer by trade,
Quite a bundle I've made,
I'm unionized roofin' old
Son-of-a-gun!
(He's a unionized roofin' old
Son-of-a-gun!)

When I get off, I get plastered
Drink till I fall onna floor,
Find me some Communist bastard,
'N stomp on his face till he don't
Move no more!
(He stomps on his face till he don't
Move no more!)

I fuss, an' I cuss an' I keep on drinkin',
Till my eyes puff up an' turn red!
I drool on m'shirt,
I see if he's hurt,
Kick him again in the head, yes!
Kick him again in the head, boys!
Kick him again in the head, now!
KICK HIM AGAIN IN THE HEAD!

Lonesome Cowboy Burt!
(Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt!
(Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants,
My cowboy dance,
My bold advance,
On this here waitress . . .
Yodel-oh-oo-pee-yeh
Yodel-oh-oo-pee!

(HE'S LONESOME COWBOY BURT,
A-don'tcha get his feelin's hurt)
Yeah . . . but come on in this place,
An' I'll buy you a taste,
'N you can sit on my face—
Where's my waitress?
OPAL, YOU HOT LITTLE BITCH!

 

Went on the road
For a month touring
What a drag
You gotta go
Even if you'd rather be at home
Flaked out
In Hollywood
Drove to Inglewood and then we dumped
All our shit into the plane at five-O-three
(What's it gonna be?)
Chicken, beef or turkey?
La La La La
Would you like a snack?

JCB: Hey, who are these dudes? Are you a boy, or a girl?

HA HA HA HA . . . HA HA

JCB: What the fuck was that? I wonder if that son of a bitch can play something I might even like!

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA Ha

JCB: Hey twerp, play me something I can enjoy!

Centerville
A real nice place to raise your kids up
Centerville
It's really neat!

Churches
Churches
And liquor stores

She painted up her face
She sat before the mirror
She painted up her face
She drew the mirror nearer

Practisissing, Practiss, Practicing!

The STARE!
The STARE!

(The 'secret stare' she would use
If a worthy-looking victim should appear)

Practisissing, Practiss, Practicing!
(Ah-hoo-ah-hoo-wah-hoo-wahhhh)
Practisissing, Practiss, Practicing!

 

The clock upon the wall
Has struck the midnight hour!
She finishes her call;
Her girlfriend's in the shower

Practisissing, Practiss, Practicing!

Half a dozen provocative squats!
Out of the shower, she squeezes her spots;
Brushes her teeth;
Shoots a deodorant spray up her twat . . .
(It's getting her, getting her
Hot—Oh-woh-woh-woh-woh-woh)
She's just twenty-four
And she can't get off,
A sad but typical case, yeah
Last dude to do her
Got in and got soft;
She blew it,
And laughed in his face, yeah!
Face, yeah!
Yeah

 

She chooses all the clothes
She'll wear tonight to dance in!
(She dances, she prances, she dances, she prances
She prances, she prances, she . . . )
The places that she goes
Are filled with guys from groups,
(Yeah-yeah-yeah)
Waiting for a chance to break her pants in

PROVOCATIVE SQUATS!
(gum-me-on-m'lung-a)
PROVOCATIVE SQUATS!
(gum-me-on-m'lung-a)
PROVOCATIVE SQUATS!
(gum-me-on-m'lung-a)
PROVOCATIVE SQUATS!
(gum-me-on-m'lung-a)

Well, at least there's sort of a choice there;
Twenty or thirty at times there have been—
Somewhat desirable boys there—
Dressed really spiffy, with long hair—
Waiting for girls they can shove it right in

Well, at least there's sort of a choice there;
Twenty or thirty at times there have been—
Somewhat desirable boys there—
Dressed really spiffy, with long hair—
Waiting for girls they can shove it right in

 

200 Motels
200 Motels
Han toon ran toon
Ran-tant-ta-dan
200 Motels

Jeff: I'm stealing the towels!

Jeff: Han-Min-Noon-Toon Han-Toon-Ran
Good Conscience: No, Jeff!
Jeff: Rantoon, Rantoon, Rantoon, Frammin, Hantoon, Rantoon, Hantoon, Frammin
Good Conscience: No no no!
Jeff: Man! This stuff is great! It's just as if Donovan himself had appeared on my very own TV with words of peace, love, and eternal cosmic wisdom . . . ! Leading me. Guiding me. On paths of everlasting pseudo-karmic negligence, in the very midst of my drug-induced nocturnal emission.
Good Conscience: For I am your good conscience, Jeff. I know all. I see all. I am a cosmic love pulse matrix, becoming a technicolor interpositive!
Jeff: Huh? Where'd you buy that incense? It's hip.
Good Conscience: It's the same and mysterious exotic oriental fragrance as what the Beatles get off on.
Jeff: I thought I recognized it . . . Sniff, sniff . . . Mmm, what is that, MUSK? Sniff, sniff, sniff . . . mmmh!
Good Conscience: Jeff, I know what's good for you.
Jeff: Right. You're heavy.
Good Conscience: Yes, Jeff, I am your guiding light. Listen to me. Don't rip off the towels, Jeff!
Bad Conscience: Piss off, you little nitwit!
Jeff: Hey man, what's the deal?
Good Conscience: Don't listen to him, Jeff, he's no good. He'll make you do BAD THINGS!
Jeff: You mean, he'll make me sin?
Good Conscience: Yes, Jeff. SIN!
Jeff: Wow!
Bad Conscience: Jeff, I'd like to have a word with you . . . about your soul.
Good Conscience: No, don't listen, Jeff.
Bad Conscience: Why are you wasting your life, night after night playing this comedy music?
Jeff: You're right, I'm too heavy to be in this group.
Bad Conscience: Comedy music . . .
Good Conscience: Jeff, YOUR SOUL!

(right channel:)
Oh, ah
Oh, you're wasting your life
To be . . .
Ah

(left channel:)
Oh, ah
Ah, ah
Too heavy, Jeff

Jeff: In this group, all I ever get to do is play Zappa's comedy music. HE EATS!
Good Conscience: Jeff!
Jeff: I get so tense!
Bad Conscience: Of course you do, my boy.
Jeff: The stuff he makes me do is always off the wall!
Bad Conscience: That's why it would be best to leave his stern employ.
Jeff: And quit the group!
Bad Conscience: You'll make it big!
Jeff: That's right.
Bad Conscience: Of course!
Jeff: And then I won't be SMALL!

Ha ha ha ha ha!
Ha ha ha!
Ti-diddly-diddly-dee
Ha, ha, ha . . .
He-he-he-he-heh!

Jeff: Cough, cough. Ahmet Ertegun used this towel as a bathmat six weeks ago at a rancid motel in Orlando, Florida, with the highest MILDEW rating of any commercial lodging facility within the territorial limits of the United States, naturally excluding tropical possessions . . . It's still damp. What an aroma! This is the best I ever got off! What can I say about this elixir? Try it on steaks! Cleans nylons! Small craft warnings! It's great for the home! The office! On fruits!
Bad Conscience: This is the real you, Jeff. Rip off a few more ashtrays. Get rid of some of that inner tension. Quit the comedy group! Get your own group together. Heavy! Like GRAND FUNK! Or BLACK SABBATH . . .
Good Conscience: No, Jeff . . .
Jeff: Or COVEN!
Good Conscience: Peace . . . Love . . .
Bad Conscience: Bollocks!
Jeff: What can I say about this elixir?

Howard: Jeff has gone out there on that stuff!
Good Conscience: He should have never have used the elixir and only stuck to the incense. Oh, Atlantis . . .
Mark: That was BILLY THE MOUNTAIN, dressed up like Donovan, fading out on the wall-mounted TV screen. Jeff IS flipping out. Road fatigue! We've got to get him back to normal before Zappa finds out, and steals it, and makes him do it in the movie!
Bad Conscience: You have a brilliant career ahead of you, my boy, Just GET OUT OF THIS GROUP!
Mark: Howard, that was Studebacher Hoch, dressed up like Jim Pons, giving career guidance to the bass player of a rock-oriented comedy group. Jeff's imagination has gone beyond the fringe of audience comprehension.
Howard: Jeff, Jeff, it's me, the Phlorescent Leech!
Mark: Jeff, Jeff, it's me, Eddie!

WOWWWW!
WHAT CAN I SAY ABOUT THIS ELIXIR!

Mark: (right channel) Put it on your steaks, uh, send it overseas, [...] ground, and put it on you surfboard so you won't slip off. Try it on your [Jim Bean Boy], and on the, the red balloons, you can blow up all balloons with it. Put it on your . . . heh . . . on . . . on your pizzas. Put it on your shoes, tie your bike with it, and fill up your tires with it.

Howard: (center) Use it to clean your swimming pool, sell it to your mother and tell her it's a Rit tie-dye kit, you won't even believe what'll happen when you starch your shirt with it, ironing goes easier and your car windows never looked better in your whole life. Ladies and gentlemen, you can inhale it, and it makes your voice three keys higher, and you can't even stand what happens when you put it on your hair, as hair tonic. Heh, heh. And if you ever tried it as a . . .

Jim Pons: (left channel) Soak your shirts in it, soak your teeth in it. Let it play the piano. Follow it around the block. Wear it instead of jeans. Bathe your puppies with it. Feed it to your ducks. Use it instead of chlorine in your swimming pool. Breathe it. Love it.

What?
WOWWWWWW!
What can I?
WOWWWWWW!
What?
What can I say about this?
WOWWWWWW!

Dwee-doo dee-ooo-poo
Pa-dan!

Jeff: Does this kind of life look interesting to you? Night after night, dinners with Herb Cohen. Thrill-packed, fun-filled evenings on the French Riviera at the MIDEM convention. A fake tie, the whole bit. Watch Mutt eat, and Leon feed the geese. One thousand green business cards, with your name and the wrong address. Plus six royalty statements, inspected and customized by Rantoon Tan, Hantoon Frammin, and DEE . . . Followed by twelve potential suicides as the members of your group, past and present, find out they can't collect unemployment. A dog, a car, an epidemic of body lice, with your own record company, your name on the door, electric buzzer to the inner office, and Ona's tits, and a three month supply of German bookings with tickets on Air Rangoon. Does this kind of life look interesting to you? As a fake rock and roll guitar player in a comedy group?

Hunna hunna hunna

200 Motels
200 Motels
Ran toon han toon
Han-toon-hannnnnn!
200 Motels

Jeff:
I'm stealing the room!
I'm stealing the room!
I'm stealing the room!

Chorus:
I'm stealing the room
I'm stealing the . . .
I'm stealing the room
I am steel
Stealing
I'm stealing the . . .
I'm stealing the . . .
I
I AM
I AM STEEL
STEEL!

Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?

She's such a dignified lady
She's so pretty and soft
You can't call her a groupie
It just pisses her off
(Yeah)
She got diamonds and jewelry
She got lotsa new clothes
She ain't hurtin' for money
So that everyone knows

That she knows what she wants
Knows what she likes
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy
Look out . . . she's got her eyes on you

She left her place after midnight
(La la la la la)
And she drove to the club
(La la la la-ee-ah!)
You know that her and her partner
(La la la la la)
Came here lookin' for love
(La la la la-ee-ah!)
They want a guy from a group
(La la la la la)
Got a thing in a charts
(La la la la-ee-ah!)
IF HIS DICK IS A MONSTER
IF HIS DICK IS A MONSTER
IF HIS DICK IS A MONSTER
They will give him their hearts

'Cause they know what they want
(Do it, d'ya wanna-wanna?)
And they know what they like
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy
Look out . . . they got their eyes on you

FAM-BAM-YAK-A-TA-TAHHH!

They know what they want
Know what they like
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy . . . oooh!
Daddy, daddy, daddy
Awright, you got 'em screamin' all night
(La la la la la)
Screamin' all night

Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
(Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do it, do it?)
It's a Bentley!
(Ooh!)
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
(Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do it, do it?)
It's a Cooper!
(Ooh!)
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
(Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do it, do it?)
It's a Chevy!
(Ooh!)
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
(Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do it, do it?)
Or a Lincoln!
(Ooh!)
Ooo-ooo, do you like my new car?
(Do it, do it, d'ya wanna-wanna do it, do it?)
['Cause they're dancin'!]
(Ooh!)
Ooo-ooo . . .

Penis dimension
Penis dimension
Penis dimension is worrying me
I can't hardly sleep at night
'Cause of penis dimension

Do you worry?
Do you worry a lot?

No!

Do you worry?
Do you worry and moan . . .
That the size of your cock is not monstrous enough?

It's your penis dimension!
Penis dimension!

Howard:
Wah ooo-wah ooo-wah ooo-wah
Wah ooo-wah ooo-wah ooo-wah

Mark: Hiya friends. Now just be honest about it. Did you ever consider the possiblity that your penis, and in the case of many dignified ladies, that the size of the titties themselves might provide elements of sub-conscious tension? Weird, twisted anxieties that could force a human being to have to become a politician! A policeman! A Jesuit monk
Howard?: [...]
Mark: A rock and roll guitar player! A wino! You name it. Or in the case of the ladies, the ones that can't afford a silicone BEEF-UP, they become writers of hot books
Howard: "Manuel, the gardener, placed his burning phallus in her quivering quim."
Mark: Yes, or they become Carmelite nuns!
Howard: "Gonzo, the lead guitar player, placed his mutated member in her slithering slit." Ha ha ha! Ooh . . .
Mark: Or race horse jockeys. There is no reason why you or your loved ones should suffer. Things are bad enough, without the size of your organ adding even more misery to the TROUBLES OF THE WORLD!
Howard: Right on, right on!
Mark: Now, if you're a lady and you've got munchkin tits, you can console yourself with this age-old line from primary school:
Mark & Howard: ANYTHING OVER A MOUTHFUL IS WASTED! YES!
Mark: And isn't it the truth? And if you're a guy, and one night you're at a party and you're trying to be cool, I mean, you aren't even wearing any underwear, you're being so cool, and somebody hits on you one night, and he looks you up and down and he says, uh . . .
Howard: Eight inches or less?
Mark: Well let me tell you, brothers, that's the time when you've got to turn around and look that sonofabitch right between the eyes, and you got to tell him these words:

What will this evening
Bring me this morning?
What will this evening
Bring me this morning?
Dawn will arrive
Without any warning

What will I say
The next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
(If things go all right!)

What will I say
The next day to whatever
I drag to my hotel tonight?
(Will she be outasite?)

What will this evening
Bring me this morning?
What will this evening
Bring me this morning?
A succulent fat one
A mod little flat one
Maybe a hot one (to give me the clap!)
Maybe a freak who gets off with a strap

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
If things go all right!
(If things go all right!)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
Will she be outasite?
(Will she be outasite?)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
If things go all right!
(If things go all right!)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
Will she be outasite?
(Will she be outasite?)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
If things go all right!
(If things go all right!)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
Will she be outasite?
(Will she be outasite?)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
If things go all right!
(If things go all right!)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
Will she be outasite?
(Will she be outasite?)

What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?
(What will I say the next day to whatever I drag to my hotel tonight?)
If things go all right!
(If things go all right!)

What will I say the next day . . .

Why don't you strap on this here bunch
Of cardboard boxes, daddy-o?
Joy of my desiring
You'll certainly look suave and get me hot
Hot, hot, get me hot and
Horny
(Ow!)
If there's one thing I really get off on
(YOINNNNG!)
It's a nun suit painted on some old boxes
Some old melodies
4/4
An aura
An areola
Pink gums
Stumpy gray teeth
Dental floss
Gets me hot
Wanna watch a dental hygiene movie?

Ooh, the way you love me, lady,
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Mark:
Do you really wanna please me?

Howard:
Well, you know I do, babe

Mark:
Well, tell me why you do it
I really wanna know

Howard:
Oh, no, no, it wouldn't be right
For me to tell you tonight

Mark:
You better tell me right away
Or I'll pack up and go!

Howard:
Don't get mad
It ain't no big thing

Mark:
You better tell me right away,
Don't you treat me cold

Howard:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!
Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd . . . I'd drag a girl such as yourself back to this . . . plastic hotel room and . . . rip you off for spare change to run a . . . to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size, bulk-purchase, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed and . . . and make you take off all your little clothes . . . until you were nearly STARK RAVING NUDE! (Save for your chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong Peace Medallion, heh . . . ) And make you assume a series of marginally erotic poses involving . . . a plastic chair and . . . an old guitar strap while I . . . did a wee-wee in your hair and . . . beat you with a pair of tennis shoes . . . I got from Jeff Beck

Dew
On the newts we got
Newt money dew
It's a payment on the rental for the dewy little
Newts we got
We got 'em dewy
Left 'em in the yard all night
Hope they didn't get uptight
The little vixens
The saucy little vixens
I hope they didn't get pissed off
I hope
That they did not
Did not
I hope
That they did not
Dash off
Into the night

Blorp
Blorp
The lad searches the night for his newts
Blorp

Blorp

Narrator:
The girl wants to fix him some broth.

Soprano:
Tinsel cock!

Chorus:
Doo-wee-do
Tinsel cock, my baby

Soprano:
Would you like some broth?

Narrator:
Some nice soup

Chorus:
YUM!

Soprano:
Some hot broth?

Narrator:
Small dogs in it

Chorus:
Doggies!

Soprano:
Yooooouuuu . . . Do you?

Narrator:
You like broth?

Chorus:
Doo-wadnum!

Narrator:
Dog broth?

Soprano:
Hot broth?

Chorus:
Hot dog broth?

Narrator:
You like dog broth hot?

Soprano:
Hot dog debris

Chorus:
DEBRIS!

Soprano:
Dog debris!

Narrator:
How do you like it?

Chorus:
Dog breath?

Soprano:
Doo doo

Narrator:
Debris of the four styles offered

Chorus:
DOG BROTH?
DOG BREATH BROTH?

Narrator:
Debris, broth, breath,
And the ever popular hygienic
European version
Tinsel cock!

Chorus:
Tinsel cock!

Narrator:
Which do you choose?

Soprano:
Oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh

Narrator:
The girl . . .

Chorus:
Duh girl wants to fix him some broth

Narrator:
In a statement to the press . . .

Chorus:
Duh-D-Duhhh!

Narrator:
Explains . . .

Broth reminds me of nuns
(Nuns)
I see them smashing
(Kids)
With rulers
Disciplining munchkin cretins
(Munchkin cretins)
Tortured munchkins
(Munchkin cretins)
Tortured munchkins
Irish Catholic victims
Little green scratchy sweaters
(Sweaters)
Little green scratchy ones
(Courduroy pants)
Brown courduroy ponce
(Doo-ahh)
Courduroy ponce
And green scratchy munchkin
Irish Catholic victims
(Munch-kins
Munch-a-kins)
Munchkins get me hot
Munchkins get me, get me hot

Hot!
Gets her real hot

Theodore Bikel:
This, as you might have guessed, is the end of the movie. The entire cast is assembled here at the Centerville Recreational Facility to bid farewell to you, and to express thanks for your attendance at this theater. This might seem old fashioned to some of you, but I'd like to join in on this song. It's the kind of a sentimental song that you get at the end of a movie, it's the kind of a song that people might sing to let you in the audience know that we really like you and care about you, yeah . . . Understand how hard it is to laugh these days, with all the terrible problems in the world!

Lord, have mercy on the people in England
For the terrible food these people must eat
(Baaahhh . . . excuse me a minute)
And may the Lord have mercy on the fate of this movie
And God bless the mind of the man in the street

Help all the rednecks and the flatfoot policemen
Through the terrible functions they all must perform
God help the winos, the junkies, and the weirdos
And every poor soul who's adrift in the storm.

Help everybody, so they all get some action
Some love on the weekend, some real satisfaction

Phyllis Bryn-Julson:
A room and a meal
And a garbage disposal
A lawn and a hose'll
Be strictly genteel

Reach out your hand to the girl in the dog book
The girl in the pig book, and the one with the horse
Make sure they keep all those businessmen happy
And the purple-lipped censors and the Germans of course

Help everybody, so they all get some action
Some love on the weekend, some real satisfaction

A Swedish apparatus
With a hood and a bludgeon
With a microwave oven
"Honey, how do it feel?"

Lord, have mercy on the hippies and faggots
And the dykes and the weird little children they grow

Help the black man
Help the poor man
Help the milk man
Help the door man
Help the lonely, neglected old farts that I know

Theodore Bikel:
It's been swell havin' you with us tonight, folks!

Mark:
But, don't leave the theater yet, 'cause there's still more to come, but before we go on, I want to introduce to you my friend and musical associate, Howard Kaylan, who's going to give us all a final closing benediction

They're gonna clear out the studio
They're gonna tear down all the . . .
They're gonna whip down all the . . .
They're gonna sweep out all the . . .
They're gonna pay off all the . . .
(Oh, yeah!)

And then . . .
And then . . .
And then . . .
And then . . .

Hey hey hey, everybody in the orchestra and the chorus
Talkin' 'bout every one of our lovely and talented dancers
Talkin' 'bout the light bulb men
Camera men
The make-up men
(The fake-up men)
Yeah, the rake-up men
(Especially Herbie Cohen, yeah . . .)
They're all gonna rise up
They're gonna jump up
I said jump up
Talkin' 'bout jump right up and off the floor
Jump right up and hit the door
They're all gonna rise up and jump off!
They're gonna ride on home
They're gonna ride on home
They're gonna ride on home
They're gonna ride on home
And once again
Take themselves
Seriously, yeeeah!
Two, three, four, seriously
They're all gonna go home (ye-hey!)
Through the driving sleet and rain
They're all gonna go home
Through the fog, through the dust
Through the tropical fever and the blistering frost
They're all gonna go home
And get out of it as they can be, baby
And the same goes for me
(The same goes for me)
Oh, yeah!
Oh, yeah!
Oh, yeah!
Oh, yeah!

And each and every member of this rock oriented comedy group in his own special way
Is gonna get out of it as he can be
We all gonna get wasted
We all gonna get twisted
We all gonna get wasted
We all gonna get twisted
And I am definitely gonna get . . .
REAMED
'Cause I'm such a lonely
I'm such a lonely
A lonely, lonely, talkin' 'bout a lonely guy!
Oh, and I know tonight, I am definitely . . .
I am positively . . .
I just have to get . . .
BENT, REAMED AND WASTED

JCB: A disaster area the size of Atlantic City, New Jersey!

Howard: He's making me do this, ladies and gentlemen. I wouldn't do it if it weren't for him. You noticed, all through this material, I've been glancing over toward my left? Well, I'll tell you the reason for that, ladies and gentlemen. HE is over there. HE is over on the left. HE is the guy that is making me do all this shit. Right over there. Now all through this movie, every time we've been on stage, I've had to look over in that direction, right? You saw it . . . you know. Well that's 'cause HE's over there. I've got to watch him for signs. He jumps up and down like a jackass. I can't even believe the guy sometimes. But we gotta watch him. "After all," we said, "it's Frank's movie." Now, we're THE MOTHERS, but it's still Frank's movie. Let's say it, he got to paid for it, he rented the studio, had all these cheesy sets built . . . it's so moche! I can't even stand it . . . He's telling everybody, right now, right over there, to . . .

Coming! Soon!
To a theater or drive-in near you . . .
Frank Zappa's incredible epic 200 MOTELS!
See the Mothers of Invention!
See Theodore Bikel!
See Ringo Starr!
See Keith Moon!
Romance!
Hot beats!
Romance!
Ah-hoo!
Hot beats!
Romance!
Mystery!
(You gotta show 'em funny cars, man)
(Ah-hoo!)
Funny cars!

Help everybody, so they all get some action
Some love on the weekend, some real satisfaction

That's right, you heard right
Frank Zappa's 200 Motels
With the Mothers of Invention
Theodore Bikel
And Ringo Starr

200 Motels

A United Artists release rated 'R'
Under seventeen admitted with parent

Murakami Wolf/Bizarre productions present:

200 Motels

The Wide Screen erupts with absurdities,
explodes with spine tingling psychological terror.
The mere human mind buggles at the philosophical implications as FRANK ZAPPA'S 200 MOTELS is unleashed in the totality of its pagan splendor.
Its primordial fury.
Star-studded cast . . .
And everything

That's right, you heard right
Frank Zappa's 200 Motels
With the Mothers of Invention
Theodore Bikel
And Ringo Starr

200 Motels

A United Artists release rated 'R'
Under seventeen admitted with parent

Coming! Soon!
To a theater or drive-in near you!
Frank Zappa's epic motion picture 200 Motels!
See the Mothers of Invention!
See Theodore Bikel!
See Ringo Starr!
See Keith Moon!
See groupies and weirdos beyond your wildest expectations!
200 Motels, you can't believe the expense
The lavishness
The romance
The intrigue
The mystery
The ah-ooh,
200 Motels
Coming soon to a theater or drive-in near you

A United Artists release rated 'R'
Under seventeen admitted with parent

200 Motels

Frank Zappa's 200 Motels!

A United Artists release rated 'R'
Under seventeen admitted with parent

Ooh, the way you love me, lady,
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size

Mark:
Do you really wanna please me?

Howard:
Well, you know I do, babe

Mark:
Well, tell me why you do it
I really wanna know

Howard:
Oh, no, no, it wouldn't be right
For me to tell you tonight

Mark:
You better tell me right away
Or I'll pack up and go!

Howard:
Don't get mad
It ain't no big thing

Mark:
You better tell me right away,
Don't you treat me cold

Howard:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!