Nun filking

[Spark]

WOW! I don't mean World of Warcraft.

[Joe Jack Onassis]

All right, bitches.  Back to the nun filking.

Nuns of Post-DEFCON M.C.  (to the tune of "Transmaniacon MC" by BOC)

With mushroom clouds still standing tall, radiation makes us fry
We'll head south from Mud City in a souped-up A-team van
A body count of forty-five,  and kick some rider ass
We're pain, we're steel, a left of hooks,
We're Nuns of Post-DEFCON M.C.

From Johnny's pantry, from Buck's toolbox, We'll provide for this child
Whose name is in our nun's prayers, (I'm sure it's written somewhere)
And I'm no fool to drive that hog, I'll leave that to those members
Who did assign their drive skill points
To Nuns of Post-DEFCON M.C.

And surely we did offer up under that bridge at dawn
Beers and cans of tuna, weed and cans of spam
Pure morphine from our cook Johnny who's abandoned all his spawn
To those who'd dedicate their souls
To Nuns of Post-DEFCON M.C.

Read the bible, spread the word, Sister Savior's here
And look out for that dark Joe Jack, he'll smile sweet and shoot your back
The stage is set for redemption, Now witness please the good Lord's power
We're pain, we're steel, a left of hooks,
We're Nuns of Post-DEFCON M.C.

[hoa nguyen]

THESE ARE THE LAST DAYS OF MUD (Sung to the tune of “These are the Last Days of May” by Blue Oyster Cult)

Swampy land, vile men of sand
The world has gone to pot
And the ribbon of mud is gumming up the wheels like it’s snot (It’s snot)
Seven in our party were fightin’ and bitchin’
In the back of an armored van
They couldn’t know they weren’t going far

Each one armed with a shotgun or a pistol
And a few bullets just to make them work
They were driving straight to hell and back
‘Cause Oprah was playing ‘em like a jerk

Oh crap, a booby trap
Just took out the truck
And the bikers, they all swarmed around the van (Oh fuck!)
They attacked us with clubs and cleavers
You know it wasn’t too smart
Johnny said, “My hook arm’ll rip out your heart”

Wasn’t until the battle had stopped
That we listened and heard the rumbling bikes
The men in black and Osterman’s thugs
Both of them had us right in their sights

They’re a dud, the last days of Mud
But we’ll drop Osterman there
Yeah, they’ll lynch him soon
But it’s not like we really care (Really care!)
Would Thad be interested in coming along
Instead of staying here?
It’s said he once had a porno career
That’s what they say

[Spark]

Nun for the Thrills (Sung to the Tune of "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden)

Osterman came for Sister Bea
He brought her lies and a rosary
She killed his pride, he mocked her creed
She took his kids for her own need

We fought him hard we fought him well
Under the bridge we gave him hell
But many came too much for Bea
Oh will we ...wait, I have to pee

Biking through zombies and barren wastes
Revving it hard on the plain
Chasing the Mud Folk back to their homes
I think Johnny Cook might be lame
Relief for children a prick in the arm
Joe Jack and Hoa Nguyen, the Mud Folk attack

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

Clem ain't sure 'bout how Johnny's food tastes
The puking and retching's a shame
Eating the coffee and drinking the eggs
Only the really good cooks aren't lame
Buck is working at finding more gold
So we can stop eating hard tack and mold

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

(Electric guitar solo)

Yeeeeeeeeeeeah oooooooooohhh

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
 
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for yooour liiiiiiives.

[hoa nguyen]

Nun for the Thrills (Sung to the Tune of "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden)

Osterman came for Sister Bea
He brought her lies and a rosary
She killed his pride, he mocked her creed
She took his kids for her own need

We fought him hard we fought him well
Under the bridge we gave him hell
But many came too much for Bea
Oh will we ...wait, I have to pee

Biking through zombies and barren wastes
Revving it hard on the plain
Chasing the Mud Folk back to their homes
I think Johnny Cook might be lame
Relief for children a prick in the arm
Joe Jack and Hoa Nguyen, the Mud Folk attack

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

Clem ain't sure 'bout how Johnny's food tastes
The puking and retching's a shame
Eating the coffee and drinking the eggs
Only the really good cooks aren't lame
Buck is working at finding more gold
So we can stop eating hard tack and mold

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

(Electric guitar solo)

Yeeeeeeeeeeeah oooooooooohhh

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
 
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for yooour liiiiiiives.

I'm glad they specified that the solo was played on an "electric guitar."

[Brand Nar Gath]

Nun for the Thrills (Sung to the Tune of "Run to the Hills" by Iron Maiden)

Osterman came for Sister Bea
He brought her lies and a rosary
She killed his pride, he mocked her creed
She took his kids for her own need

We fought him hard we fought him well
Under the bridge we gave him hell
But many came too much for Bea
Oh will we ...wait, I have to pee

Biking through zombies and barren wastes
Revving it hard on the plain
Chasing the Mud Folk back to their homes
I think Johnny Cook might be lame
Relief for children a prick in the arm
Joe Jack and Hoa Nguyen, the Mud Folk attack

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

Clem ain't sure 'bout how Johnny's food tastes
The puking and retching's a shame
Eating the coffee and drinking the eggs
Only the really good cooks aren't lame
Buck is working at finding more gold
So we can stop eating hard tack and mold

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.

(Electric guitar solo)

Yeeeeeeeeeeeah oooooooooohhh

Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
 
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for your lives.
Nun for the thrills,
Nun for yooour liiiiiiives.

Crazy that two massive Iron Maiden fans like you and I were filking the same song... or at least thinking of filking this song!

[hoa nguyen]

ABBESS OF WOE (Sung to the tune of “Abyss of Woe” by GWAR)

Amid your travels in the atomic snow
You may have seen Abbess of Woe
Scapular flapping as she speeds along
The tailpipe of her Harley rumbling its song

CHORUS:
Black and white
She’s swinging her wood axe, oh no
Pulverized by the Abbess of Woe
And for her crime, church bells chime
Her most holy...crime

End up in her path, you end up dead
Killing is a habit that’s so hard to shed
She rides a tide of vengeance that can't be denied
Townsfolk chopped down, kids euthanized

[Chorus]

She was fearsome enough when traveling by van
But now she’s a One-Percenter, riding the pan
Her wimple is leather, no longer crepe
Traded in her hymnal for a Steppenwolf tape

The Lord Jesus Christ is her old man
She’ll have him ride bitch if she ever can
Of holy water vessels she no longer has need
Unless she can use them for cooking up speed

Her iron horse speeds across the great wasteland
Borrowed Hoa’s India ink to tattoo her hand
Bowie knife handy in an ankle sheath
Won’t be long before she’s missing some teeth

[Chorus]

Jumped on her bike
Rode into the mess
She’ll kill you all
And then confess
BLACK AND WHITE

[Joe Jack Onassis]

ABBESS OF WOE (Sung to the tune of “Abyss of Woe” by GWAR)

Amid your travels in the atomic snow
You may have seen Abbess of Woe
Scapular flapping as she speeds along
The tailpipe of her Harley rumbling its song

CHORUS:
Black and white
She’s swinging her wood axe, oh no
Pulverized by the Abbess of Woe
And for her crime, church bells chime
Her most holy...crime

End up in her path, you end up dead
Killing is a habit that’s so hard to shed
She rides a tide of vengeance that can't be denied
Townsfolk chopped down, kids euthanized

[Chorus]

She was fearsome enough when traveling by van
But now she’s a One-Percenter, riding the pan
Her wimple is leather, no longer crepe
Traded in her hymnal for a Steppenwolf tape

The Lord Jesus Christ is her old man
She’ll have him ride bitch if she ever can
Of holy water vessels she no longer has need
Unless she can use them for cooking up speed

Her iron horse speeds across the great wasteland
Borrowed Hoa’s India ink to tattoo her hand
Bowie knife handy in an ankle sheath
Won’t be long before she’s missing some teeth

[Chorus]

Jumped on her bike
Rode into the mess
She’ll kill you all
And then confess
BLACK AND WHITE

Bad Ass!