THE DARK ARTS HONKY TONK [Intro — Distant church bells, evil piano, thunderous drums] BOOOOOM! Well, bless my soul and polish me boots, There's summat rather sinister down at the roots! The landlord's gone missing, the kettle's possessed, And a six-foot demon's nicked me Sunday-best! VOICE FROM THE SHADOWS: "Fancy a pint, mate?" VOCALIST: "Only if you're bloody paying!" [GUITARS DROP — HEAVY METAL RIFF] WELCOME TO THE DARK ARTS HONKY TONK! Where the spirits get rowdy and the dead get drunk! We've got black magic brewing and a bassline from Hell, And the bloke in the corner's just summoned himself! [Verse 1 — Gritty British rap] Oi, gather round, you miserable lot, I've got a dodgy old spell and a boiling-hot pot. Got a haunted little teapot, got a cursed umbrella, Got a witch down the pub who's a right proper screamer! She's reading your fortune in a greasy chip wrapper, Says you'll meet your doom by the hands of the chippy-shop snapper. The barman's a vampire, his breath smells of gin, And he won't serve the Devil till he's shaved his chin! There's a ghost in the loo going, "WHO'S NEXT IN THE QUEUE?" There's a goblin nicking biscuits and he's pinching mine too! I told him, "Pack it in, you disgusting little git!" He hexed me left slipper and buggered off with it! [Pre-Chorus — Rising guitars and choir] Raise your glasses! Let the floorboards shake! Wake the bloody village, make the old church quake! If the moon turns green and the sky turns black, Tell the Grim Reaper we're not bloody going back! [Chorus — Huge, shouted metal vocals] THE DARK ARTS! HONKY TONK! STOMP YOUR BOOTS TILL THE WHOLE WORLD'S GONE! BANG THEM DRUMS, LET THE BLACK BELLS RING! EVEN HELL'S GOT A PUB AND THE DEVIL CAN SING! THE DARK ARTS! HONKY TONK! WHERE THE DEAD GET LOUD AND THE LIVING GET ON! WITH A HELLFIRE RIFF AND A BRITISH-MADE GROAN— WE'RE THE MADDEST BASTARDS THIS SIDE OF THE THRONE! [Verse 2 — Faster rap, cheeky British delivery] I've got a witch called Brenda who can curse your tea, Turn your lovely little cuppa into soup made of peas. She's got a black cat called Keith, he's a miserable sod, And he keeps leaving dead mice as an offering to God. There's a werewolf out back in a flat cap and vest, Says he's dead good at darts but he's bloody useless at chess. Frankenstein's DJ-ing, his cables are a mess, And Dracula's on karaoke screaming Take Me to the Dentist! The Devil's in the snug with a clipboard and pen, Trying to sort out the paperwork for demons again. He said, "I've conquered kingdoms, I've frightened mankind!" I said, "Lovely, mate. You're still waiting in line." [Breakdown — Bass only, whispered British voice] Now listen 'ere, you cheeky little poltergeist… You can rattle all the windows. You can howl all night. You can turn my milk green— But DON'T TOUCH ME FRIDAY-NIGHT PINT! [FULL BAND EXPLODES] OI! OI! OI! LET THE RAFTERS SHAKE! OI! OI! OI! MAKE THE OLD DEVIL BREAK! [Bridge — Dark spoken rap over pounding drums] This ain't your granny's little ghost story, mate, It's a black-hearted carnival that don't shut the gate! We've got thunder in the rafters, we've got fire in the sound, Got a thousand angry drumbeats trying to wake the underground! No fancy little wand and no delicate dance, Just a steel-toed boot and a demonic two-step trance! If the forces of darkness want to join our parade, Tell 'em bring their own biscuits—and get the bloody kettle made! [Final Chorus — Maximum power, layered vocals] THE DARK ARTS! HONKY TONK! STOMP YOUR BOOTS TILL THE WHOLE WORLD'S GONE! BANG THEM DRUMS, LET THE BLACK BELLS RING! EVEN HELL'S GOT A PUB AND THE DEVIL CAN SING! THE DARK ARTS! HONKY TONK! LOUD AS THUNDER, DARK AS SIN! FROM THE STREETS OF LONDON TO THE GATES BELOW, WHEN THE BLACK HEART BEATS, LET THE WHOLE WORLD KNOW! THE DARK ARTS! OI! OI! OI! HONKY TONK! OI! OI! OI! THE DARK ARTS! HONKY TONK! NOW SOMEBODY FIND ME A BLEEDIN' KEBAB! [Outro — Piano stops, one enormous drum hit] DEMONIC VOICE: "Last orders!" VOCALIST: "Already? Bloody typical." [END — Distorted guitar feedback and one final evil chuckle]
