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Three minutes and a half minutes or so of quirky, catchy pop - words, harmonies, guitars and an ending.
indie pop male acoustic beatles duo band folk harmonies quirky squeeze solo english robyn hitchcock the beautiful south
Artist picture
Pulp, Jarvis Cocker, The Smiths, Morrissey, Barenaked Ladies, The Lucksmiths, Elvis Costello, Robyn Hitchcock, The Soft boys, The Housemartins, The Beautiful So
All my recordings are as a full band - but the band is just me. My split personalities and alter-egos have been making music together since we were 10 years old, previously gigging regularly in Nottingham with two bands until moving to the South West of England in 2003.
Song Info
Genre
Pop • Dance-Pop
Charts
Peak #1,129
Peak in subgenre #388
Author
Crazy Quilt Bouquet
Rights
CQB
Uploaded
April 17, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.3 MB • 128 kbps • 3:35
Story behind the song
Through thick & thin the dog will win...
Lyrics
I sit up and beg when you’ve a bone to pick with me, I’m suede to your leather and I always take your lead, You’re at the end of my tether with the bit between your teeth. You can say whatever and be safe in your belief, That when you’re down to the marrow a proper party pooper, You know that come tomorrow I will be your pooper scooper. It’s raining cats and dogs, It’s a real Jackson Pollock, You’re a real work of art, And I’m the dog’s bollocks. The cat’s out of the bag no matter how you wine and holler, God is just dog backwards, it should be you wearing this dog collar. I scrape and claw while you just bark out your commands, You throw sticks and stones and think that I don’t understand, Laughing while I’m gnashing, you were once shy and twice bitten, So you put me in the doghouse when you are having kittens. It’s raining cats and dogs, It’s a real Jackson Pollock, You’re a real work of art, And I’m the dog’s bollocks. You sniff and pick holes while I’m looking for escape flaps, You like doggy paddles and I like chasing pussy cats. What on earth must you think of me? For what it’s worth I probably agree. I like chasing birds, you’ve got feathers in your cap, You like fake fur, I like other people’s laps. It’s raining cats and dogs, It’s a surreal Jackson Pollock, You’re a real work of art, And I’m the dog’s bollocks. Your bite’s worse than your bark and you can be a bitch but There are no fleas on me – I am still your mutt.
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