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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…
SpotifyApple MusicYouTube Music

Head Cheese Face Full O' Chili

Listen on…
SpotifyApple MusicYouTube 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.