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Bushwick Book Club presents SHERLOCK HOLMES

by The Bushwick Book Club

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Poison on the breath. Examine the footsteps. The ash from a cigarette. Everything holds a truth. The width of the carriage is a fact not to disparage. It carries a message getting closer to you. Everything is a clue. The nicks on the watch tell him more than the time. Tells you his brother was the drinking ne'er do well kind. The dirt on your shoe tells him where in London you've been to-- The Wigmore Street post office, duh; and you sent a telegram, not a letter. Everything is a clue. You don't have to tell him. He already knows. He lives for a question. The truth always shows. Give him a problem or he'll go insane. Shoot up a seven percent solution of cocaine. Everything is a clue
Sherlock is Home I’ve lived for years on Baker Street – 221B’s the address. It’s a quiet old flat on a quiet old street, with strictly no bother or mess. But the quiet old years, they ended, when this man moved in upstairs And now my days and nights are filled with worries and with cares. When you choke On the smoke From the puffing of his pipe Still you’re grateful that he’s pondering in silence But when you’re snatched From your slumber By the screeching of his fiddle You’re tempted to meet violins with violence. Not to speak Of the squeaks As stampeding up the stairs Comes a never-ending cavalcade of clients Or the fumes And the flames From the frightful apparatus With which he dabbles dodgily in science. In short To deduce If the flat upstairs is taken by an irritating, calculating sleuth – If the noises from your neighbor make you gnash your teeth and foam You can bet that Sherlock is home! Now, I’ve tried to ask him nicely to keep the volume down. He just said he could tell from a look at my lapel I'd been born near Winchester town. When I tried to direct his attention back to the matter at hand He said it was plain that I’d spent time in Spain – just from the way that I stand. I ask you! Well I left in a huff and I took my case to Mrs. H, the landlady. She told me, “Ah love, ‘e pays rent like a lord, so what do I care if ‘e’s shady?” Well I hoped for justice from the Metropolitan P’lice Department But the cop said, “Let’s face it, ‘e solves ‘alf our cases – ‘oo cares ‘ow ‘e treats ‘is apartment?” So now I’m stuck - Shit out of luck. When you trample On a tramp When you’re stepping off your stoop And he says he’s one of Mr. Holmes’ informants And there’s a racket Of revolvers As the doctor and detective Hold a tournament in targeting performance. Never once Does he ask If you’d care to come upstairs For a drink or for a neighborly tea party And the only one Who listens When you tell your tale of woe Is a sympathetic chap named.. Moriarty In short To deduce If the flat upstairs is taken by an irritating, calculating sleuth - If you’re woken by the sound of a diabolic hound, If the woman comes to scheme about a scandal in Bohemia, If there’s morphine and cocaine fairly dripping down the drain, If there are bloody brutal brawls up the stairs and down the halls, If the horrors that you’ve known are enough to fill a tome, You can bet that Sherlock (Be sure to lock up yer lock) You can bet that Sherlock is home!
The fog rolls in It's time for sin Steal your family jewels from the tower of London Cause nothing goes down in this town without my say so The sound and the fury for the pound and the peso Face like an eagle with a bald head to match All I do is illegal and I'll never be catched Catched is not a word but caught didn't rhyme Crimes against English; the Napoleon of crime I murdered a police horse You couldn't catch me with your whole police force You'll never stop my crime Consulting detective? I'm a professor And I'll never confess, I don't need a confessor Just know I'm the best and that you are my lesser It's a good thing, Holmes, your roommate's a physician When it comes to murder I'm a mathematician Me plus you equals death, that's just simple addition And you'll fall at the falls for your final mission Cause my cane is a gun And I murder for fun The lemon to your lime The parsley to your thyme The Anti-Holmes, the Napoleon of crime I murdered a police horse You couldn't catch me with your whole police force You'll never stop my crime I stabbed a baby And I slapped an old lady Blew up Scotland Yard and I gave Toby rabies I defeated Picard and I wasn't even real I outsmarted Data and he can't even feel At best you'll hope to take but one of my pawns While I'm taking your queen, keep her moaning till dawn I have a brother named James and another brother James Will all have the same name, we're all named the same But my name shall echo through out all of time Professor James Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime


All songs performed and recorded live at CultureFix, March 28th, 2013.


released March 31, 2013




The Bushwick Book Club Brooklyn, New York

We started in January 2009 playing songs written in response to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. We haven't stopped since. We've written & performed songs inspired by everything from "On The Origin of Species" to Dr. Seuss to Raymond Carver. There are BBCs popping up nationwide now. Bushwick Book Club Seattle started in 2010 & is run by Geoff Larson. Our nerdy dare-devilry knows no bounds. ... more


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