Jaldaboath : The Further Adventures

Folk Metal / United-Kingdom
(2014 - Napalm Records (AUT))
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1. Roland the Farter

Though the bogs of St Edmund,
beyond the gaseous wastes
Lives a hero amongst men, one of expensive tastes
He dines solely on beans and rich salted prunes
He holds magic powers to which none are immune

He's the King's secret weapon and his jester to boot.
He has his own castle and vaults full of loot.
The French make no plans to invade this fair isle
For fear they meet Roland they quake rank and file

Roland the Farter, we're depending on you!
Roland the Farter: please don't follow through!

Brewed in his bowels is a stench none can stand
For 10,000 hectares, it kills beast and man
Chemical warrior, flatulist supreme
Dark-age Mass-destruction from the brown jet-stream

Aiming his arse as their army draws near
He pumps out a strong one that's soft on the ear
But sounds are deceiving, they do not see their doom
As, one by one, they march into the plume.

"Unum saltum et siffletum et unum bumbulum"
(one jump, one whistle, and one fart)

Roland's the hero, always the one to win
So don't be afraid, it's better out than in
Don't worry 'bout the farting, be proud of your trumps
But don't strain too hard; Avoid pants full of lumps!

2. Warrior Monks of Whitehawk

Warrior Monks! Whitehawk! Warrior Monks!

The warrior monks are on their way
No absolution, they're gonna make you pay

Cos you've been bad and you'd better beware
If you're living sin, you'd better say your prayers

They'll take your teeth out
with a crucifix

Remove your balls and fill your sack with bricks

So stop your talking
and finish your beer
There's no escaping,
they're already here!

The Warrior Monks
of Whitehawk
Permitted to kill,
but not allowed to talk
A vow of silence
and killing for the Lord
All naughty boys and girls die by the sword

The executors
of Cardinal Sin
Drink their Bucky
and then begin

Free from the cloisters
ordained to kill
The removal of limbs
is their holy skill

Rome has decreed
you shall be slain
For mead and wenches
are on your brain

There's no way out,
you will succumb
To red hot pokers
up the bum

"Brethren - we are gathered here today to take our holy vows of violence. To venture beyond the borders of darkest Whitehawk, and to prosletyse the unwashed masses of Brighthelmstone & Hova. For they live by the ways of the Devil and his minions, and must be purged of this ungodly heresy, if needs be by tortuous death."

"To war! God wills it!"

They return to the abbey
with their severed heads
Say their prayers,
climb into bed

They dream of when
they'll again be free
To preach the word of god
on a killing spree

3. The Bitch of Chiselhurst Caves

Mead can do many things it can even make you blind
And the tavern wenches round these parts drive me out of my mind

There's on such girl of whom I know who's been around the block
For fifteen duckets and a bucket of milk she'll even roost your cock.

She's for hire, baby

Doff your cap and quaff your wine
For the Bitch of Chiselhurst Caves is mine
War your sons and tell your chums:
She's the Bitch of Chiselhurst Caves

If you take her home to stroke your bone and caress your mighty helm
She'll tie you to the bed & ride you 'til you're dead, she's the finest in the realm

When you're worn right through and your balls are blue and your dreams full of delight
Don't be surprised if she takes all your gold and vanishes in the night

"She wants my sausage" (But she'd better hurry up 'cos there's only one going)

So hide your stash and bank your cash, be wise and mark these words:
You'll have your way but you'll have to pay, for the best-laid supper can turn to turds

4. Raise the Crummhorns

Blinding sunshine shining high
Reflects on crummhorn, sword and lance;
Returning home, weary from battle,
To a victorious home-coming dance.

The hall is full of royal dames
Rich ladies, starved and in their bloom;
We drunken, stately knights in armour,
Gesture obscenely across the room

Raise the crummhorns - Raise them high!
Raise the crummhorns - Until we die!

If later you venture up the stair,
You will hear the wenches start to shriek
As the knights do shed their metal skins
Letting loose their juicy luncheon meat.

Squires and hand maidens also climb,
Venturing to find an empty hall
He boasts of dangers, far & wide
But she finds his sausage obscenely small.

"...and if you find yourself without a mate, do not fret, for 'tis not too late. The pig-faced cook is always fancy free, and a suckling pig she'll prepare for thee."

The celebrations we do often hold
When we return from the fields of war
We be stories to cherish until we are old
Debauchery - three and twenty score!

5. The Wailing Witch of Moulsecoomb

To many she's just a malignant bitch
But the truth is she's an evil witch.
She boils up spells in her gingerdread house
And in her hair there lives a mouse!

Her smell, when near, offends the nose,
For she has not time to wash her clothes,
Black cats 'n goblins are friends and kin
They boil the bones of the slain within.

Beware the Wailing Witch of Moulsecoombe!
Her spells invoke your doom
(she's coming to get you)
Beware the Wailing Witch of Moulsecoombe!
If you're a sinner,
she'll eat you for dinner!

A cretinous oaf's her captive mate
Their offspring share their woeful fate
The Scum-flecked walls, and haunted halls,
lying beyond the foreboding gate

Her own reflection is the best attack
Her ugly mush doth push her back.
But there is a way to escape her wrath:
By following the knightly chivalrous path.

"Witch of Moulsecoombe - the boiler of seas,
she beats the fearless warriors to their knees.
Raising an army of skull-headed duds,
the earth shakes with thunderous buttock-thuds.
So rally the horses and assemble the men.
We will ride out to meet this fat hen;
blow her away with the mace of doom,
and send her fat ass spinning to the moon!
(or thereabouts...)"

Beware the wailing Witch of Moulsecoombe!
Your reign is ending soon, we're coming to get you!

The wailing Witch of Moulsecoombe!
Her reign is ending soon, we're coming to get her!
But if you're a sinner,
she'll eat you for dinner...


6. Black Metal Beauty

Gweneth, my love it over-flows and spillith
Come ride my steed into the night,
do not be frightened, for I am enlightened
(at least, enough to see the way!)
Onwards - into the concert (faces painted)
By blasting drums we are elated and the howls,
and anti-Christian growls enough to shake your bowels!

Oh oh oh o-oh she's a Black Metal Beauty!
Oh oh oh o-oh she's got me feeling fruity!
Oh oh oh o-oh touch that Black Metal booty!
Oh oh oh o-oh 'tis my Black Metal duty!

Bedsit, this hovel is not very well lit
just enough to see the shadow of her breast
Inverted cross on chest, my sword completes the quest.
Plumpish, this wenches bitches smell of codfish
I'll not return another day, but now I'll have my way.
...Well - if you think you can find something more appetizing in a bloody band t-shirt, good luck to you!

"...If the truth be told, this wench is but a beast as if cast from the very bowels of hell itself. For even great Lucifer could not stand the sight of this grotesque evil dwarf in a mini-skirt!..."

Escaping, in early morn fore she is waking
I cannot stand the shame of being seen
leaving this goblin queen
Could fault be too much ale?

Homebound, onto the castle and to safe ground
And please my men be on your guard in case she comes
She's just one of those ones you wish you hadn't shagged

Sham-ed - all is lost and nothing gain-ed
What have I done, but shame my clan
I'm less than a man
T'was not a cunning plan

7. Dex the Whispering Dwarf (Roland's Reprise)

A holy man, with a whispering castrato
A wrinkled face, like a sun-dried tomato
He farms the hills of Brighthelmstone
Boring all with persistent drone
In his holy red-striped shawl,
he tends to his sacred vegetables.
He warns us we must live another way
Declares to all he can save the day

Haha this-a-way, haha that-a-way haha this-a-way, my oh my

Please refrain, you tire me so
You know nothing that is worth to know
The sky isn't falling, you're just very boring
You're Dex the Whispering Dwarf

Dex! Dex!
You're Dex the Whispering Dwarf

Drink your tea and shut your mouth
Most boring man in all the south
Just smoke your buds and dig your spuds
You're Dex the Whispering Dwarf

Who can save us from this yawn?
Most tedious person ever born?
We should call Roland, he'll know what to do
he'll save the day with a special brew.

Shut your mouth, you bore me so
You know nothing that is worth to know
The sky isn't falling, you're just very boring
You're Dex the Whispering Dwarf

"Roland, we beseech thee: come save us from this terrible dwarf!"

9. The J Team (Addendum Carmen)

"In 1314, an order of troubadour knights were sent to Merlan by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the UK Metal underground. Today, still wanted by the Pope, they survive as minstrels of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them - maybe you can hire: Jaldaboath"

Fresh out of Merlan, the Oubliette of darkness
Jaldaboath - the Templars of Doom
Minstrels of fortune ride into the sunset,
Ready for hire - reputations exhumed

Riding roughshod through the turnpikes and toll booths
Highway men scarper when they hear the thundering hooves
Dick Turnip's men are nowt but rapscallions
Money or your life' - I'll give it to your wife

Riding forth like in a dream
We'll solve all your ills or change your regime
To call Jaldaboath, just give a scream
There's none more extreme (duh duh duh)
Midsummer knight's Wet Dream (dun d-duh duuuh)
Maybe you can hire the "J" team!

Coming to save your castle from a sieging
Stop on the way to do a bit of wenching
Unsheathe the sword to do a bit of thrusting
Bleeding the plebs (whatever that means...)

Riding on horse-back screaming like wild beasts,
Jaldaboath slay their foes from west to east.
Bones they are a'crunching 'neath the mace of doom
Skulls they are smashed - we're gonna get you all!

We're coming to save you (if you have the cash)
Always lay waste to and turn your foes to ash

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