Head Cheese
COMEDY ROCK, HEAVY METAL, PUNK
Tenacious D, Spinal Tap, Steel Panther If you’re a fan of Steel Panther, Tenacious D and Spinal Tap you’ll love Head Cheese! They played the club circuit for many years and still occasionally bless the stage. They have a cult following of loyal cheeseheads! Their songs and live shows are hilarious, witty, and NEVER politically correct!
Lockout Music is excited to re-release their epic EP titled Monument and their full-length album Face Full of Chili. Check out their music video for “Billy Jack!“
Head Cheese Monument
Listen on…
Spotify • Apple Music • YouTube Music
Head Cheese Face Full O' Chili
Listen on…
Spotify • Apple Music • YouTube Music
Featured Tracks
Video + Photos
Lyrics
Monument
She was heavy in the saddle and she took old Stevie Sachs for a ride
He drank himself flat on the floor and then she climbed astride
But he’ll be back to that my son and that’s a natural fact
Because once you’ve had meat from the moose you can’t ever go back
It took whisky and a pitcher of beer to make her look just right
She had big old hairy legs that keep him warm at night
You know she knew what he needed and made it up right there in the sink
Don’t run, don’t cry, don’t hide, don’t even blink
You do the moosemeat boogie
Drinking beers and smoking a bowl
You do the moosemeat boogie
You know the moose is gonna take its toll
Because once you’ve had meat from The Moose, there ain’t no use…
You can’t ever go back
Well, it’s long way from Detroit in a bad disco denim jumpsuit
To The Moose with leather chaps and a boogity-shoes
She was built like a semi, but he drove her like an automobile
Like an AWOL sailor drunk; one hand on the wheel
You do the moosemeat boogie
Drinking beers and smoking a bowl
You do the moosemeat boogie
Well the moose is gonna take its toll
Because once you’ve had meat from the moose, there ain’t no use…
You can’t ever go back
You say your girlfriends pretty
Does greasy beaver taste good?
I tried to save a goddamn baby
From being a piece of firewood
Were all out in the desert
Deseret Fest ‘92
I tried to save a goddamn baby
Whose dad was sleeping in his own puke
Baby!
Ba-by!
Baby!
You say your girlfriends pretty
Yeah, if you like the dead
I tried to save that goddamn baby
From sleeping in a fire-bed
Baby!
Ba-by!
Baby!
You ask me what my problem is; take a long look in the mirror
You think you look like Raquel Welch; you look a lot more like Harry Shearer
Hit the road, I cut you loose; you done run out of time
Wrap your head in two brown bags – one for your head; one for mine
I hate every bone in your body but mine
I hate every single bone in your body but mire
I hate every bleach-blonde hair on your head
I’d dance on your grave if I heard you were dead
I hate every bone in your body but mine
Although you look like an old bag, you look damn good in the sack
Why don’t you keep your big mouth shut and just lie on your back?
Thought I’d met a Cadillac, not a four car head-on wreck
I’m about to take these two here hands and wring your goddamn neck
I hate every bone in your body but mine
I hate every single bone in your body but mire
I hate every bleach-blonde hair on your head
I’d dance on your grave if I heard you were dead
I hate every bone in your body but mine
Later, see-ya, have a nice life – how could it be so clear?
If only at midnight, you’d turn into a pizza and some beer
I’ll put you on the fastest train away from here my love
But your pretty face, will not be here when push it comes to shove
I hate every bone in your body but mine
I hate every single bone in your body but mire
I hate every bleach-blonde hair on your head
I’d dance on your grave if I heard you were dead
I hate every bone in your body but mine
If there’s an ass that needs to be kicked, he’s your man
Or a hippie half-breed Indian chick with a black and blue tan
He’s a short guy’s fuse that’s ready to blow, he’s the one
Take a cobra and an old redskin chief, you know he’s their son
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got all the white chicks in the sack
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got balls of iron swinging in his sack
Throwing blows for what he thinks is right, that’s habitual
He’ll drop kick you into tomorrow night, just like a ritual
It’s his Indian superiority that he’s claiming
He’s a first-class, bad-ass, out-for-blood GI shaman
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got all the white chicks in the sack
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
You know he has to laugh breaking Bernerd’s back
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got balls of iron swinging in his sack
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
If there’s an ass that needs to be kicked, he’s your man
Or a hippie half-breed Indian chick with a black and blue tan
He’s a short guy’s fuse that’s ready to blow, he’s the one
Take a cobra and an old redskin chief, you know he’s their son
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got all the white chicks in the sack
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
You know he has to laugh breaking Bernerd’s back
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
He’s got balls of iron swinging in his sack
He’s Billy Jack (Billy Jack!)
Billy Jack!
Mother knew her brother, in a biblical sense
At the tractor pull, my days are all spent
My neck, it may be red, my head may be bent
Oh, Lord, I just can’t seem to pay the rent
I’m just a lad
I’m just a dirt bag
White trash, white trash…
I’m just white trash
Drinking straight white lighting, and Brew 102
Flashing my best Sunday grin, that’s missing a tooth
I’ve been to hell and back, on a half a tank of gas
Matches and dynamite, let’s have ourselves a blast!
I’m just a lad
I’m just a dirt bag
White trash, white trash…
I’m just white trash
(Spoken)
You know every week or so…
I send my woman down to the local Circle K
With twenty dollars of federally funded food stamps
And do you know what she brings me?
My woman brings me a carton of Chesterfields
Two of them suitcases of old Milwaukee Beer
You know the warm kind she gets on sale?
A value pack of King D ick’s Head Cheese
Some Wonder Sandwich Slices…
You know, the small loaf that’s just not quite enough for a party?
I’m just a lad
I’m just a dirt bag
White trash, white trash…
I’m just white trash
Oooo…White, white trash
Oooo…White, white trash
Oooo…White, white trash
Oooo…White, white trash
Face Full O' Chili
Maybe it’s because his dad’s one-legged
And kicked his ass with his prosthetic limb
If you open up a dictionary
After the word dumb shit is a picture of him
Cause he’s an idiot
A fucking idiot
He’s an idiot, yeah, yeah, yeah
A fucking idiot
His blockhead was empty and he shaved it
He bared his boney ass and he got slapped
That fat satanic bitch, she did enslave him
And every day to school he wears the same sweaty jockstrap
Cause he’s an idiot
A fucking idiot
He’s an idiot, yeah, yeah, yeah
A fucking idiot
It’s just about 6am
In Houston, Texas
I had to have a sit-down meal
With Richard Davis
He’s singing for the Lord, you know
Mending broken people
And banging all the choir girls
Beneath the steeple
The only thing he knows…
Tommy’s got dime Cokes
“They beat that man like a dog”
Said Richard Davis
He doesn’t want to work at all
Except for Jesus
He hammered nails in the door
He was compelled to
And when you can’t take any more
The only thing he knows…
Tommy’s got dime Cokes
Tommy’s got dime Cokes
Tommy’s got dime Cokes
He woke up, behind The Hut one day
He’d been asleep there 20 years…
Be bellied up, they filled his cup that day
Now I don’t think he’ll be leaving here
His wife, she threw him out, in 1973
She just didn’t know what’s drinking about
They said he had a wife and kids one day
But old Al, he made it clear
At The Hut, I can eat pickled eggs all day
I stand here, doing nothing, drinking beer
His wife, she threw him out, in 1973
She just didn’t know what’s drinking about
His wife, she threw him out, in 1973
She just didn’t know what’s drinking about
Well the recipe says one large armadillo
If you want your Texas chili right
You just knock that fucker out
And boil up the snout
And Bar-B-Que and beat the dogs all night
In Texas every minute lasts an hour
And every stupid story last all day
They just drive and wipe the sweat
From the wrinkles on their necks
And try to nail some dinner on the way
Because we all have a ball in Texas
That goes to show you ignorance is bliss
There’s tractor driving, chicken fucking, whisky drinking sexists…
Down in Texas
Because we all have a ball in Texas
That goes to show you ignorance is bliss
There’s tractor driving, chicken fucking, whisky drinking sexists…
Down in Texas
Well there’s a whole lot of nothing between here and there
One hundred and eighteen degrees
A few lonely truck stops full of amorous bears
They all looked tame enough to me
A sign was blinking; it said “ice cold beer”
And I pulled over to chill
A couple of grizzlies made it perfectly clear
I was about to just get killed – I should have learned
Don’t feed the bears
Don’t feed the bears
Keep your arms inside the car
And don’t give them tequila!
Tree huggers claim that zoos are inhumane
And wild animals should roam free
But if you ever tangled with a hairy brown bear
I’m sure you’d agree with me
Don’t feed the bears
Don’t feed the bears
Keep your arms inside the car
And don’t give them tequila!
They call him Roger Lynn
The hippest cat that’s ever been
Or the sexiest man in America
The finest clothes a man could by
An afro big and wide and high
He broke the Village People dressed like Dracula
Like Count Dracula!
Roger Noble’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
Amidst the flashing lights
The potentate of night
Reigns supreme over disco psychedelic-a
Then things turned for the worse
He picked up Noble’s Curse
Leisure suits and paranoid hysteria
Hysteria!
Roger Noble’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
Roger Noble’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
He’s had the blues
You know it’s always been so clear to me
Cats and me, well we just disagree
I try to be nice; they shit on my stuff
Ever since I was a little kid,
There were plenty of bad things I did
Like dropping off cats from the second floor
I hate cats, but I don’t hurt ‘em (He hates cats!)
I hate cats, but I don’t hit ‘em with my car
I hate cats, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it (He hates cats!)
But I won’t do a single bad thing to cats anymore
How would you like it if you came home,
From a very long hard day at work
And there was a steaming hot pile of cat shit in the middle of your bed?
So I chased the fuck around the room;
Caught him under the bed and poked him with a broom
He scratched me on the face; I guess that’s what I get
I hate cats, but I don’t hurt ‘em (He hates cats!)
I hate cats, but I don’t squirt ‘em with my hose
I hate cats, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it (He hates cats!)
But I won’t do a single bad thing to cats anymore
Every time I meet someone new
She’s got a cat; maybe one or two
I try to be nice, they shit on my stuff
There’s cat hair all over my brand new slacks
There’s cat hair everywhere; it’s even on my back!
I hate the evil feline fucking creatures
It’s swollen and it’s throbbing and it’s hard as a rock
And if it had a voice, it would surely talk
It would tell you about the porno mags under the bed
IT would tell you about the time I almost beat it dead
I got a fist (FIST!)
A fist of fury
I got a fist (FIST!)
A fist of fury
My mom came in late one afternoon
And said: “Son what’s that in your hand?
I said momma it’s only my rocket of love
And I’m shooting it to the moon
I got a fist (FIST!)
A fist of fury
I got a fist (FIST!)
A fist of fury
You can hug your trees
But I prefer weeds
And this ain’t no joke,
You can do more than just smoke
Hemp/I like to eat it
Hemp/Let’s save the planet with…
Hemp/ and legalize it
Hemp/and you can grow your own
And you can build your houses
And make clothes and rope
And you can make some killer brownies
Why do you think they call it dope?
Hemp/I like to eat it
Hemp/but I run out of my…
Hemp/ so share it with me
Hemp/and don’t be a shemp
I’m two guys with something special about me
I can double the bang for your buck
If you’ve never been with two men woman
It looks like you’re in luck
Two eyes, four ears, two chins, four legs, one brain
I’m a Siamese twin, four limbs and a couple of canes
It’s been said before that good things come in threes
Baby I’m two thirds there
You can’t get enough of me and myself
I’ve had it up to here, and to here
Two eyes, four ears, two chins, four legs, one brain
Four arms and 60 teeth, with a whole lotta taste
Two kids, one wife, two jobs, one life, gold chains!
If you want to see pain, have a look on either look of my face
Got servants hanging on every word
Lastly best of all
They’re waiting every day and night
With seconds when we call
Two eyes, four ears, two chins, four legs, one brain
Four arms and 60 teeth, with a whole lotta taste
Two kids, one wife, two jobs, one life, gold chains!
If you want to see pain, have a look on either look of my face…Two
She asked us for a ride yesterday
In line at the buffet
She said her name was Franka with an “a”
She got in, and passed wind all the way
A hurricane of stink swept our way
A wall of foul decay
We closed our eyes and silently we prayed
She turned to us, and this is what she said:
Pull over Joe
I gotta take a shit!
Right now
(Solo/Ad-lob talking)
Pull over Joe
I gotta take a shit!
Right now
Pull over Joe
I gotta take a shit!
Right now
Pull over Joe
I gotta take a shit….RIGHT. NOW.