Frank Zappa — Won Ton On lyrics
The page contains the lyrics of the song "Won Ton On" by Frank Zappa.
Lyrics
Not really harrys voice:
Ecuas-nzbe?
Thing-fish:
Whiff it, boy! whiff it good, now! mammies, step forward n try tgit on down wit
dem broadway zombies! dis de closin numbuh, now! moses! git yo brown ass ovuh
heah! leave de co-log-nuh alone
Minnit. whyntcha go on n cornhole ya some evil prince! I blieve he done evolved
to de point where he kin hannle it now!
See dat? uh-huh! look like he severely enjoyin it awready! sound like he enjoyin it, too! wuh- oh! I smells trubba! look like he got de eeyah- noosht!
aint no two ways about it.
The mammies dance tangos with the zombies, (eventually hurling them offstage),
the evil prince corn-holes rhonda (who doesnt even notice as she waves her
magic-wand fountain pen around for harr
Follow), thing-fish snatches up the crab-grass baby and obdewlla (one in each
hand), shaking them like maracas, while twirl-dancing around the yard,
harry-as- a-boy and the artificial rhonda re Ar, chasing after the infant, quentin robert de nameland corn-holes brown moses.
opal rides the bull while francesco gives her an enema. the nativity box
rotates erratically, deli- vering dutch
Ts who offer onions to the audience.
Thing-fish:
fo yall departs, I jes wish to say in conclu- sium, as matters o dis gravity
genrally re- quire some type o philosomical post-scription, dat what yall have
witnessed heah tonight were a t Tory — only de names o de potatoes have been changed to protect de innocent.
Galoot co-log-nuh! dont buy it, peoples! dis have been a public service
ernouncemint. wave good-night to de white folks, dewlla!
A conga-line is formed. they all exit through the audience, except for
francesco, thing-fish &sister obdewlla x (the crab-grass baby has been returned
to harry-as-a-boy and artificial rh Rhonda:
This is symbolism, harry!
Harry:
…not the stuff that freckles lets out!
Rhonda:
This is symbolism! really deep, intense, thought-provoking broadway symbolism.
really modern, harry…
Harry:
Take your hand off that chain, honey!
Rhonda:
Fuck that briefcases…
Harry:
…not the briefcase…