| Lyrics: | Pop Hates The Beatles
My daughter needs a new phonograph.
She wore out all the
needles.
Besides, I broke the old one in half.
I hate the Beatles.
She says
they have a Liverpool beat.
She says they used to play there.
Four nice kids from offa the
street.
Why didn't they stay there?
What is all the screaming about?
Fainting
and swooning.
Sounds to me like their guitars
Could use a little tuning.
The
boys are from the British Empire.
The British think they're keen.
If that is what the
British desire,
God Save The Queen.
No daughter of mine can push me around.
In
my home I'm the master.
But when the British come into town,
Gad, what a
disaster.
Little girls in sneakers and jeans.
Destroyed the territory.
'Twas
like some of the gorier scenes
From West Side Story.
Of course my daughter had to go
there.
The tickets are cheap, she hollers.
I was able to pick up a pair
For
forty-seven dollars.
When the Beatles come on the stage,
They scream and shriek and
cheer them.
Now I know why they're such a rage,
It's impossible to hear
them.
Ringo is the one with the drum,
The others all play with him.
It shows
you what a boy can become
Without a sense of rhythm.
There's Beatle books and
T-shirts and rings,
And one thing and another.
To buy my daughter all of these
things,
I had to sell her brother.
Back in 1776
We fought the British then,
folks.
Parents of America,
It's time to do it again, folks.
When they come
back, here's how we'll begin,
We'll throw 'em in Boston harbor.
But please, before we toss
'em all in,
Let's take 'em to a barber |
