It was a Portuguese Lunar Landing,
(Redondo Beach & all)
A fascinating evening, full of shrimp
And rugged thrall

With a tank of Duty Water
(Which a cleric had designed),
They pushed a secret plunger, made of sponge,
For all mankind,
And launched a rumpled rocket
Just to see what they might find

Here we are!
It seems like yesterday!
Little craters, rather brittle
(Yes, I knew they'd be this little!)
No air for making noises!
Hot in the sunny part; cold in the shade
(That'd be your temperature choices)

We join the Portuguese astronaut on the moon, where he has just discovered a mysterious creature wandering about. And in true Portuguese fashion, he sings to it, with the help of his buddies.

It seems to be movin' along
Under its own steam!
(If steam, itself, was possible here),
But since it's not, I guess I got
Not a heck of a lot to fear—
Not a heck of a lot to fear—

But is that a tear?
Is that an ear?
Is it really, really movin'?
Is it really comin' near?
If I turn around 'n run,
Will it get me on the rear?
(An' chew m'booty)
(An' chew m'booty)
(An' chew m'booty)
(An' chew m'booty)

I wonder if it talks,
Or what it might just say!
I wonder if I get paid extra
For findin' this sucker today!

If the TV camera's on,
There'll be a picture when it's gone,
An' I'll be Portuguese and famous,
In the astro-cosmic dawn!

Fweet, fweet, fweet!
Little fella!
Walk toward the camera 'n smile! That's it!
Fweet, fweet, fweet!
Jesus! It's 30 feet long!
(Lemme adjust this dial—)

That's right, hold it, that's a real nice shot.
Don't you come no closer to me.
I got a Portuguese wife and a Ford and a knife,
And I want them all to see.

No! Get back! Get back! Get back!
Get yer suckers off the side of my shoe!
No! Get back! Get back! GET BACK!
I'll be forced to Kung yer Fu!

If ya ooze onto me, all the gas will come out
And I'll choke in my suit of the sky.
So stop, or I'll shoot, through the flange on yer glute,
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!

No! Get back! Get back! Get back!
What a horrible way to go!
No! Get back! Get back! Get back!
No, no, no, no, no, no!

Never trust no monster, home or away—
They never do mean you no good!
(They always munch and bite and chew,
'Cause that's their livelihood!)
I best repeat, people: you're their meat;
Don'tcha never give in to their line!
Any old place they'll seek you out
That's where they're gonna wine and dine

While yer eye's on the sparrow,
They're gonna scarf up yer marrow,
An' confiscate yer spine—
Gonna say it again: Don'tcha never give in!
Don't you even read the sign.
Don'tcha never give in, or give up, or give out,
Or give way, or move over again!
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men:
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men:
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men:
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men:

There's some kinda monster 'round every corner
Wanna whip some ooze on you—
Just tell him to beat it, if you don't wanna eat it
'N keep on chargin' through!
Just tell him to beat it, if you don't wanna eat it
'N keep on chargin' through!
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men.
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men.

It was a Portuguese Lunar Landing
Redondo Beach & all
A fascinating evening
Full of shrimp & rugged thrall
With a tank of doody-water
Which a cleric had designed
They pushed a secret plunger
Made of sponge for all mankind
And launched a rumpled rocket
Just to see what they might find

Here we are
It seems like yesterday
Little craters rather brittle
Yes I knew they'd be this little
No air for making noises
Hot in the sunny part . . . cold in the shade
That'd be yer temperature choices
Might as well plant that fish-net flag
The black-dress fat lady made
No sign of life . . .
Well I guess I stayed
Much too . . . wait a minute!
Is this a trick my eyes have played?
Groveling through the charcoal-greyish
Talcum-powder-consistency dust
Covered with rust!
Is it really oxidation
[...]

It was a Portuguese Lunar Landing,
(Redondo Beach & all)
A fascinating evening, full of shrimp
And rugged thrall

With a tank of Duty Water
(Which a cleric had designed),
They pushed a secret plunger, made of sponge,
For all mankind,
And launched a rumpled rocket
Just to see what they might find

Here we are!
It seems like yesterday!
Little craters, rather brittle
(Yes, I knew they'd be this little!)
No air for making noises!
Hot in the sunny part; cold in the shade
(That'd be your temperature choices)

It seems to be movin' along
Under its own steam!
(If steam, itself, was possible here),
But since it's not, I guess I got
Not a heck of a lot to fear—

But is that an ear?
Is that a tear?
Is it really, really movin'?
Is it really comin' near?
If I turn around 'n run,
Will it get me on the rear?
(An' chew m'booty)
Will it get me on the rear?
(An' chew m'booty)

I wonder if it talks,
Or what it might just say!
I wonder if I get paid extra
For findin' this sucker today!

If the TV camera's on,
There'll be a picture when I'm gone,
An' I'll be Portuguese and famous,
In the astro-cosmic dawn!

Fweet, fweet, fweet!
Little fella!
Walk toward the camera 'n smile! That's it!
Son-of-a-bitch! It's 30 feet long!
(Lemme adjust this dial—)

No! Get back! Get back! Get back!
Get yer suckers off the side of my shoe!
No! Get back! Get back! GET BACK!
Or I just might Kung yer Fu!

Better be careful, you slimy thing!
I'm dangerous, can't you see?
Got a Portuguese wife and a Ford and a knife,
So you best not mess with me!

If yer ooze gets on me, all my air will come out
An' I just might choke 'n die,
So stop, or I'll shoot, through the flange on yer glute,
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!
An' tromple on the stalk of yer eye!

Never trust no monster, home or away—
They never do mean you no good!
(They always munch and bite and chew,
'Cause that's their livelihood!)
I best repeat, people: you're their meat;
Don'tcha never give in to their line!
If you see 'em smile like a crocodile,
They's just about to wine and dine!

While yer eye's on the sparrow,
They'll scarf up yer marrow,
An' confiscate yer spine—
Gonna say it again: Don'tcha never give in!
Let him eat some other sucker next time!
Don'tcha never give in, or give up, or give out,
Or give way, or move over again!
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men:
There's some kinda monster 'round every corner
Wanna whip some ooze on you—
Just tell him to beat it, or you're gonna eat it,
'N keep on chargin' through!
'N keep on chargin' through!
'N keep on chargin' through!
'N keep on chargin' through!
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men.
Give head if y'wanna, or blood if yer gonna,
But remember what I'm tellin' you, men.