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Outta Ammo

by The Vee Bees

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1.
Doin'er Up 02:48
DOIN ‘ER UP Bored her out four thou’ oversize Top dead centre Tuned by ear I can’t believe me eyes Cut out the rust The Gold Coast chrome Front quarter panel Down the drivers side I got a chrome rocker cover, a chrome sump plug HEY - I’m doin ‘er up I got fats on the back, I’m in the front HEY - I’m doin ‘er up Start ya bastard! The battery’s gone flat HEY Red back spider gear knob In the driveway, on the stands Front wheel bearing, dirty hands Brand new rubber, brand new rims Second hand carby, re-co’d diff Donk in the shed, it’s in bits This shit box is ratshit But I’m doin ‘er up Waiting for parts I can’t get second, I can’t get first HEY
2.
MEET MY MIDDLE FINGER Here we are, I just met ya And I don’t like what I see And there’s something I’d like you to meet Got a finger for you WO-OH Got a medal for me WAY-HEY The fine art of fingering aint lost on me I’ll give you the finger in the third degree I’m gunna turn down the charm So watch the end of my arm You humpty dump diddy dumb dumb cunt Fuck you very much Got a finger for you WO-OH Got a medal for me WAY-HEY Meet my middle finger Got a finger for you WO-OH Got a beer for me WAY-HEY
3.
FAIR DINKUM ROCK’N’ROLL As fair dinkum as Ned Kelly shootin’ a roo And as rockin’ as Bon Scott Singing Next To The Moon More than just four good blokes Playing stock standard rock’n’roll The Vee Bees are fair dinkum Fair dinkum rock’n’roll If you like rough as guts Dirty, dumb ocker rock Tune in and listen to some Fair dinkum rock’n’roll As fair dinkum as a sharpie Mucking up like a goose And as rockin’ as the Tatts Rock’n’roll and blues. More than just four good blokes Playing stock standard rock’n’roll The Vee Bees are fair dinkum Fair dinkum rock’n’roll If you like rough as guts Dirty, dumb ocker rock Tune in and listen to some Fair dinkum rock’n’roll Four blokes, three chords The musical equivalent of a kick in the balls Two cans, two hands The more that you drink the better it sounds Everything louder than everything else A lump of two by four Belt some pub rock punk and dirty rock’n’roll In ya ear hole As fair dinkum as a ranga frying in the sunshine And as rockin’ as Haydn, he’s sick of having a good time More than just four good blokes Playing stock standard rock’n’roll The Vee Bees are fair dinkum Fair dinkum rock’n’roll If you like rough as guts Dirty dumb ocker rock Get real and listen to some Fair dinkum rock’n’roll
4.
DICKHEADS ANONYMOUS You might think you’re a dickhead But you’ve got nothing on me I am A-grade dickheadedness Of the finest quality You look on with envy Cos you’re not one of us For your problem the solution is Dickheads Anonymous Dickheads Anonymous Whaddya mean you’ve never heard of Dickheads Anonymous? This institution was around before Dickheads roamed the Earth Why be normal when you can be A dickhead just like us? Get qualified and certified at Dickheads Anonymous Dickheads Anonymous
5.
Outta Ammo 02:57
OUTTA AMMO How ya going Davo? I am bloody thirsty I’m not surprised by half Playing shit hot guitar Is bloody hard While you’re on your feet Get yourself an esky treat WO-OH, checked the house and whaddya know? OH-NO, now we’re missing ammunition WO-OH checked the esky and whaddya know? OH-NO, we’re out of ammo How ya going Glenno? I am bloody thirsty When you’re playing shit hot bass You’ve gotta pour some grog into your face Grab yourself a drink Off the ice in the laundry sink WO-OH, checked the house and whaddya know? OH-NO, now we’re missing ammunition WO-OH checked the sink and whaddya know? OH-NO, we’re out of ammo Well how ya going Nielo? I am bloody thirsty Even though you’re sitting there Shit hot drumming makes you sweat Don’t wait any later Grab a beer from the frigerator WO-OH, checked the house and whaddya know? OH-NO, now we’re missing ammunition WO-OH checked the fridge and whaddya know? OH-NO, we’re out of ammo Just in case you arx I am bloody thirsty Do I look like a camel? Whaddya mean we’re out of ammo? If I don’t get a cold beer soon I’m gunna fucken die!
6.
Wife School 03:29
WIFE SCHOOL It’s an emergency admission down the wife school, Gotta get her in as quick as I can When I got home from work late this arvo She wouldn't crack me a can And if you can't do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school If you won’t do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school I’m gunna send her down there in a rock’n’roll ambulance To save vital seconds She won't mow the lawn or do the dishes She wouldn't crack me a can! Skid marks in me undies, I’ve got nothing to wear The kids are running feral, I’m losing my hair And she won't fuck…. She won’t fucken change the oil in the truck. And if you can't do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school If you won’t do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school I’m not hard to please but she won’t do her deeds I’m gunna send her back to Wife School Just like they should, they’re gunna learn her real good Down at the Wife School It ain’t bloody funny, she won’t scrub the dunny I’m gunna send her back to Wife School I told her, I told her, I told her and I told her That if you can't do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school If you won’t do that I'm gunna have to send you back to wife school And the next thing ya know While you’re waiting for her to go Yeah the next thing ya know She kicked me in the nuts
7.
THE HORSE AND JOCKEY Alma works the beer tap While we’re playing out the back Sunday arvo beer garden Tarcutta’s changed the map Rusty’s singing grog rock songs Shoey’s on the drums Sheila’s dancing in the ute Kids are chuckin’ water bombs And Nanna said Fuck me dead Beer slopped on the concrete floor, You’re gunna need two mouths for sure We’ll rock any organ that you’ve got “No, not mine you’re not!” A good time was had by all It’s time to hit the road‘n’that A plastic bag full of ice And a six pack And Nanna said Fuck me dead
8.
I GOT NOTHING I got so much nothing I don’t know where to start I’m going fucken nowhere And getting there fast There’s nothing on the telly Sitting here on the couch There’s no fucken beer In the fucken house When is the money gunna roll on in? I’m waiting for a gold nugget To drop from my old ring I got nuthin’, holes in me teeth Even the hole in me arse ran out of stink I got no brain, I can’t even think I got so much nothing I don’t know where it ends Rocking horse shit Teeth from a hen I couldn’t win a chook raffle Wouldn’t get a place There’s no fucken beer In this fucken place At home on the throne, here I go again I’m waiting for a gold nugget To drop from my old ring I got nuthin’, pissy little dick Even the hole in me arse ran out of stink I got no brain, I can’t even think I got nuthin’ left in the tank Can’t even muster up the energy I need For a lazy left handed, three fingered wank
9.
TOMMO’S GONE TO ARGENTINA He’d get drunk on rum Then heckle you while you’re loading out his drums Armpit stink like onion Socially excited Aussie bloke out having fun Lock up your daughters And ya mum Once was here but now he’s gone. Tommo’s gone to Argentina It’s beer o’clock The fishing tackle’s packed away But the wedding tackle’s out Out for all to see Thick at the base he likes to think But he really is a dreamer The VeeBees’ horn section has moved to Argentina Tommo’s gone to Argentina
10.
I CAN’T GET ENOUGH ROCK’N’ROLL Tell me something I don’t know, Nothing beats a dose of rock’n’roll Down the hatch, the volume’s up Pour some grog into ya guts And you know When Lemmy sings a song about the Ramones That’s when I can’t get enough rock’n’roll Tell me something I don’t know, Nothing beats a dose of rock’n’roll Down the hatch, the volume’s up Down stroke riff up ya guts And you know When Joey Ramone goes wo-oh-oh That’s when I can’t get enough rock’n’roll Wo-oh-oh When I’m down the front at a rock’n’roll show When Lemmy sings a song about the Ramones When I’m at home playing air guitar The volume’s up, the beers are cold, Me ears are shot and I’m off me guts That’s when I know That I can’t get enough rock’n’roll

about

The runnin' out of beer albun.
Not out to invent new recipes the VeeBees leave out all the filler and serve up just the meat, bread and chips with a splash of sauce for flavour and 6 cans of warmish cheap shit beer to wash it all down with.
Larrikin wit, killer riffs, V8 rhythm section and singalong anthems for
fans of Cosmic Psychos, Onyas, Powder Monkeys etc. Listeners in search of intellectual stimulation may be dissapointed.

credits

released March 20, 2014

Recorded live By Phil Lally at The Band room in Wollongong on Australia day 2013. A few overdubs chucked in over the following couple of months. Mixed by Phil. Mastered by Loki Lockwood. Artwork by Ben Hutchings. Graphic design by Jezza.

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The Vee Bees Queanbeyan, Australia

For fans of good time rowdy Aussie rock punk played at an obnoxious volume - preferably in a brewery.
Four blokes, 3 chords, 2 brain cells, 1 carton of beer.
This product is guaranteed to be played by animals and tested on vegetables since 2000.
Get fucked!
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