Goon Song - Bluebottle Blues
Written by Milligan/Carbone. Performed by The Goons (1956).
This song is available for download to your computer, iPod or other MP3 player.
All the songs performed and released by the Goons are available to buy on CD.
Big musical introduction.
Sound of door opening, and Bluebottle runs up to microphone, where Secombe is waiting.
Bluebottle: Oh! Hello everybody! < fx: boos, rasperberries>
Secombe: Just the lad I've been looking for.
Secombe: <sings> Clamber on my head, Fred
Whence all but you have fled, Fred
There is no contesting,
I've no way of manifesting
How much I'd prefer you dead, Fred
Bluebottle: Oh I'm glad you like me, my Captain 'cause I trust you too.
Secombe: Gratify your wim, Jim.
Bluebottle: Jim? What happened to Fred?
Secombe: He changed his name.
Bluebottle: What to?
Tell me, can you swim Jim?
Bluebottle: No, Jim can not swim.
Secombe: Then step upon this plank, son
On the river bank, son
Which I have carefully arranged so that it will suddenly tip up and throw you into thirty feet of muddy water as you upset the trim, by stepping on the rim, Jim.
Bluebottle: I say, it's not for deading me, is it Captain?
Secombe: Oh course not, dear boy! Just walk along it a bit further!
Bluebottle: Righty-ho then. Ahh. Here I am on the edge of the nice little wooden-type plank. It is a lovely day
(fx: plank creakin) for a naughty plank walk. What?
<SPLASH!> Arg! Oh!
YAHHH! You've drowneded me.
I do not like this game.
I've got those "When I say I trust you I don't want to be drownded
'cause I do not like those kind of game" Blues.
I don't like naughty tricks that go sploo gee splat
(They say harm can come to a young lad like that)
And I do not like explosions that blow me back for Christmas
Out of my el-seaside bel-bottom shoes
I don't like being wetted by nasty April showers
And I do not like being nutted by Eifel and Blackpool towers
So I do not want to be drowned, nutted, deaded, hitted, splatted pledded!
I don't like that kind of type blues -- I don't like that
I've got them Bluebottle Blues.
Secombe: Still alive?
Take this cigarette, pet.
Bluebottle: Oh ta
Secombe: No, don't light it yet, pet.
<off> All right, now you can light it.
Bluebottle: Are you sure that I won't be deaded or nothing, Captain?
Secombe: <off> No, no -- don't be frightened!
Bluebottle: All right then, I'll just put a match to it, and ....
<over explosion> You rotten swine you! You deaded me again.
I shan't play this rotten game no more.
Picks up fractured knee caps, replaces lug in lughole and exits through little hole in middle of record
<sound of Bluebottle doing same>
<Heavy boots approaching microphone>
(Milligan, unaccompanied) I'm walking backwards for Christmas -- oh no, that's on the other side, isn't it!