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Agana HHH Chant Aloha HHH Anthem Angeles City Hashional Anthem Austin Hash Song Boatie HHH Hymn Copenhagen Full Moon Howlers Anthem Copenhagen HHH Anthem Emerald Coast Hash House Harriers Fort Eustis HHH Anthem Founders' Blitz God Bless the E.P.H. (El Paso Hash) Hashin' in New Orleans |
Hogtown Hong Kong Prayer Kiss My Hash House Harrier's Anthem Luanda Hash Magic City H3 Hash Song Men of the H, H, 3 Mother Hash Mount Vernon HHH Road Song Pikes Peak Hashers Proud to be a Hasher Richmond HHH Song Shanghai HHH Song |
Sluts from Lutz Song of the Bandar Seri Begawan Hashers Squannacook River Runners Anthem Story of the Boston Hashers Subic Hashional Anthem There is a Hash in New Orleans There is a House in Nittany Valley Tokyo Hash Song Warriers Had a Meeting Wet Spot's Wail White House HHH Anthem Wiregrass HHH Down-Down Song |
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Contributed by Babble-On Cocksucker, motherfucker, eat a bag of shit, Cunt hair, douche bag, bite your mother's tit. We're the Agana Hash, all the others suck, Agana Hash, Agana Hash, rah, rah, fuck! Melody - Choral Stanza, Beethoven's 9th Symphony Adapted by Flying Booger from the anthem of the Lyngby HHH, Denmark . . . a good song to get the circle going Come Aloha Hash House Harriers, Get your asses in high gear, Whiners, walkers, F-R-B-ers, Gather 'round these mugs of beer. Let the hashing spirit enter, Ev'ry wanker here around, Down-downs right and left and center As we hashers chug 'em down. Melody - Rocky Mountain High Composed by Mu-Sick She was born in a grass hut, in a field in Cebu. Destined to a life of poverty. But at the age of thirteen, she had a change of heart And moved to downtown Angeles. CHORUS: Where the Balibago Mount Arayat High I've seen it raining pesos in the sky. Sit around Fields Avenue and screw the TDY. Mt Arayat High, Balibago Mt Arayat High, Balibago She hopped in a jeepney with a stump-broke carabao To a place she'd heard about about before She's learned to pick up pesos from a bottle of San Miguel Working overtime giving blowjobs in Astro Park. She heard the pay was better down in Subic Bay. Especially when the fleet was in. So, she hopped a victory liner all the way to Olongapo Where she learned to do the banana-cutter show She's learned to do the circuit from Kim Hae to Taegu Keeping Team Spirit troops alive. She's a great tent heater, and she blows without kimche breath All the boys along the DMZ She married a lieutenant and got a visa to the States. The hope and dream of all the bar girls here. But after a winter in Minot, she froze her little twat And caught the freedom bird back to Angeles. Melody - Redneck Mother (contributed by ZiPpy, Pike's Peak H4, probably composed by Austin hashers) Start with background of "ba doom, ba doom, ba doom, boom, boom, boom . . ." I brought a newboot out to meet the gang, He said he needed a crowd with which to hang. He ran like a rabbit out on the false trails, By the time we got to the beer he was draggin' his tail. Well it's cross the creek and up the other side, Through some poison oak, bull nettle by my side. Well it's off the road and off into some deep dark woods, Running up and down hills just to get them goods. Well you just might see a llama along the way, Or ford a dangerous river, who's to say. But for all us who knows, to bring some dry clothes, Take a short cut through the creek to where the beer flows. Well, H, is for the hare that just laid the trail, A, is for the soil we hash on - AUSTIN! S, that's for Shiner, H, is for us hounds, E, is for everyone wearing, R, UBBERS! Melody - Sejle Opad Aaen (traditional Danish melody) Composed by Bogey, CFMHHHH We are the full m00n ho-o-o-o-o-ow lers Sly mid-night prow-lers are we, We "m00n" the spooks, Drink wit-ches' brew, 'Cause we're sons of bit-ches just like you, We live by the ca-nine co-o-o-o-o-o-odex Hear up, we'll teach it to you: "If you can't eat or screw it, then Piss on it, Piss on it, once a-gain!" For we are the full m00n ho-o-o-o-o-ow lers HO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-WL Melody -Montezuma's Hall Contributed by Elephant Man, Katherine HHH On the North shores of Antarctica Where the yanks have never been Lies the carcass of a bloody great polar bear Shagged to death by a Hash House team We are the perverts of society The likes of us you've never seen We are a pack of loud mouth bastards We are the Boatie Hash House Team Well we have a reputation For molesting little boys For abusing old age pensioners And stealing kiddies toys We are the perverts of society The likes of us you've never seen We are a pack of loud mouth bastards We are the Boatie Hash House Team We don't climb many mountains And we don't cross many streams We don't have pretty girlfriends We just live off our wet dreams. We are the perverts of society The likes of us you've never seen We are a pack of loud mouth bastards We are the BOATIE HASH HOUSE TEAM Melody - Pomp & Circumstance Composed by Sodbuster Come on, Viking Wankers, Lift your beers and shout We are Copenhashers What we've got, we flaunt. Close the narrow circle, gather round the beer. Hashing, wanking drinking, That is why we're here, Hashing, wanking, drinking That is why we're here. Melody - Bad, Bad Leroy Brown Composed by Flamin' Asshole, ECHHH; contributed by M.I.A. In the panhandle of Florida, there's a group that loves to hash. They're from the Emerald Coast, as their T-shirts boast and they can sure throw a hell of a bash. They got a hundred or two hash house harriers, and they like to have a lot of fun. They eat their red beans and rice, while drinking beer as cold as ice and they have even been known to run. CHORUS: And they're the Emerald Coast Hash House Harriers, They've been known to run through any barriers, 'Cause they're as crazy as the day is long, And known to show their ass or sing a song. It's hares away and off they're running, dropping flour from a plastic sack. They mark the intersections, with hash in all directions so they can split and bring together the pack. The FRBs are shouting "On On!" as the pack asks the question "Are You?" They claim they're on the right trail, and the check is in the mail, because a virgin missed a Check Back Two. They're getting closer to the On Home, a P-Check brings the pack in tight. Just a little more shiggy, but they're squealing like a piggy 'cause the Beer Near is in sight! After running for an hour, through the nastiest parts around, The hares all wail, that they have laid the perfect trail, but their reward will be a double Down Down. And the night turns into morning, they have acted like a bunch of fools. They took short-cuts, and showed their tits and butts, but that's okay because there are NO RULES! Melody - ??? We're the Fort Eustis hashers We're glad to be here We'll shortcut your trails And drink all your beer! We'll fuck all your women And puke in your car We're the Fort Eustis hashers The best hash by far! Melody - Puttin' on the Ritz By Great Salt Lick, Long Beach HHH If you're blue and you don't know where to go to Why don't you do a Founder's Blitz Puttin' on the Ritz Dressed up like a twenty dollar hasher Trying hard to be a trashy flasher Fashion Smasher If you'd like to see some humongous tits Why don't you go where AREOLA sitz Puttin' on the Ritz Drinking at the Long Beach Airport Prop Room With the likes of HASH BUM, RAT'S ASS and BROOM Fruit of the Loom If you'd like to see how AT&T keeps a man Why don't yo feel how hard she hitz Puttin' on the Ritz Hash Balls handed out like penny candy QPC is feeling pretty randy (Handy dandy) If you'd like to see how we get new boots Why don't you see how quick DICK quitz Puttin' on the Ritz CRABS and PIC are mounting on the front bar One more Kodak moment has gone too far Hardee Har Har If you're bored and you would like to SNEEK-A-PEEK Why don't you view our glitzy clitz Puttin' on the Ritz Food and drink consumed by all involved here DANCES surely did not need that last beer Human Pinball If you're drunk and starting to feel sick No doubt the night will be the pitz Puttin' on the Ritz HI SPEED's van was full of Taco Bellers POKEY, NIPPLE, SALT and all the fellers Steller yellers If you go and eat all that crap you'll find Your toilet full of wicked shitz Puttin' on the Ritz Party all night long in Room 446 'twas the home of EZ, SADDLE, and 3DICKS Hell of a mix If you go to that room you will witness Drunks with no beer to drink throwing fitz Puttin' on the Ritz One more year going down in a blaze of glory SMACK may just appear on that show "Maury" Gory story If you're blue and you don't know where to go to Why don't you do a Founder's Blitz Puttin' on the Ritz Puttin' on the Ritz Puttin' on the Ritz Melody - Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the U.S.A By Butt Darts of the El Paso Hash House If tomorrow all the things were gone I'd hashed for all my life And I had to start again with just one run and a new life I'd thank my lucky stars to be hashing here today 'Cause the hash still stands for freedom, so lets just masturbate! (Chorus) And I'm proud to be a Hasher Where each hash I pay a fee And I won't forget when you all lied to give that Hashit to me And I'll gladly stand up, nude with you, every hashing day 'Cause there ain't no doubt, I love this hash God bless the EPH From the hills of Malaysia, to the mountains we can see Across the Rio Grand River, they have beastiality The Harlot goes down on all of us, and we don’t have to pay Well, there's pride in every El Paso Hasher, and it's time to hash today [Chorus x2] Melody - Walkin' to New Orleans By Tree Humper, Richmond HHH, Virginia I'm hashin in New Orleans. I'm hashin in New Orleans. I'm trailin through the shiggy. Cold and wet but it's no biggie. I'm hashin in New Orleans. I've got beers in my hand. Now ain't that grand. New Orleans is my hash. Now isn't that a bash. I'm hashin in New Orleans. Nothing could be swanker. Than running with those wankers. They'll show you a great time. When you get there you'll be fine. You'll be hashin in New Orleans. Melody - Downtown By Rambo, cHARLOTtesville HHH When it's November you should simply remember, you can always go, HOGTOWN Kazoo and Shampoo, Lengthy, Saggy and crew, intend to steal from you, HOGTOWN When we reach the on-in with our tacky dress and ear-rings Molson Triple-X around the table we are sharing, Give us more booze The Blue Jays they sucked this year, so let's forget all our troubles, forget all our fears and go HOGTOWN! Follow the chevrons (1) to HOGTOWN! Freeze off your titties in HOGTOWN! Shrivel your scrotum at HOGTOWN. HOGTOWN is my kind of town! "Don't leave the camp", oh, that's what ZiPpY will rant, when he decides to go, HOGTOWN Down, downs are boring, when the whole group is snoring, start the naked dance! HOGTOWN We don't get our money's worth with lousy kay-nook (2) moola Hashing in Toronto sucks, don't let this weekend fool 'ya, Give us more booze The band-plays-with-asses-bare, they have forgotten their troubles, forgotten their cares to play HOGTOWN! Follow the chevrons to HOGTOWN! Freeze off your titties in HOGTOWN! Shrivel your scrotum at HOGTOWN. HOGTOWN is my kind of town! (1) "Chevrons" are spacing markers in the lanes on the freways leading into Toronto. (2) Canadians are frequently referred to as canucks, pronounced "kay-nooks." Contributed by Harish Pillay, Singapore HHH Our Brother, Who art in Bejing, Xiao Ping be thy name, United Kingdom gone, Thy will be done In Hong Kong As it is in China. Give us this day, Our daily bet, and forgive us, Our speculations. As we forgive those Who speculate against us. Lead us not into Communism, But deliver us, From Gwailos. For this is, The Sovereignty, The Power of Authority, Forever and ever, Chow mein. Melody - US Army Song Circled Up or On-On, And until the beers are gone Kiss My Hashers go chugging along In the shiggy or downtown All the wankers do down-downs Kiss My Hashers go chugging along Chorus: Then it's Hi Hi Hail Kiss My Hash is on the trail Drinking the lagers, porters, stouts For where ever we hash, You will find a bash Kiss My Hashers go chugging along Moby's drunk, Deep Throat's loud, Lazy can't control the crowd, Kiss My Hashers go chugging along. Rear Ender is having fits, All we want to see are tits, Kiss My Hashers go chugging along. Chorus Melody - Jerusalem And did those feet in modern time Hash upon Luanda's hillsides mean? And was the beaver of Luanda Hash In Luanda's shit-filled sewers seen? And did the RA and GMH Divine Shine forth upon our concrete hills? And was Luanda Hash builded here Among these grey Satanic mills? Bring me my horn of tarnished brass! Bring me my chicken-checker of desire! Bring me a beer, and kiss my arse! Bring me my chariot of fire! I will not cease from hashing flight, Nor shall web-sweeper sleep in my hand, Till we have built Luanda Hash In Angola's green, and pleasant land. Melody - Battle of New Orleans By Cold Box, Magic City H3 In 1989 there came a little hash, Just a case of shitty beer and small amount of cash. Soon word got around 'bout this fun beer drinking club, Chase a rabbit throwing flour and they end up in a pub!! (Chorus) We ran through the briars and we ran through a sewer, We ran through some shiggy where the rabbit didn't go, Ran so fast just hoping we would catch him, We found the beer instead, so i guess we'll never know!! Now real runners say that we're just a bunch 'o drunks, Cause they came and ran our trail and they thought we really stunk, We're sorry that you feel that way, but that's just how we think, The running is the problem, we're just really here to drink!!! (Repeat Chorus) Melody - ??? Eyes right, foreskins tight, Cockstands to the front, We're the men of the H, H, 3. We're in search of fun, We're the heroes of the night, We'd rather fuck than fight, We're the men of the H, H, 3. CHORUS: Rolling along, rolling along, By the light of the silvery moon. Happy is the Hash, With my finger up her snatch, By the light of the silvery moon. Oh, (repeat from beginning) Melody - Itself (from Kuala Lumpur HHH) If you're adventure hungry, And your yuppie life is sad, And you've a yen to be a jungly, And leave everything you have, CHORUS: You wanna run away, Sing a song, you wanna get smashed! And call it a day, come on along, And join the Mother Hash. Fifty years we've been runnin', Jungle, shiggy, and swamp, Fifty more years we'll be runnin', Happy birthday, On-On-On! Anybody can join us, Black, brown, yellow, or blue, And nobody need feel nervous, We even take white folks too! Melody - Barney Theme, or This Old Man Contributed by Roto Router, MV HHH Orlando (name of visited hash), We hashed there, Mount Vernon Hash House Harriers (visiting hash name)! We fucked all the women, Buggered all the men, Drank all the beer, And we'll do it all again! Melody: "Proud to be an American" Original lyrics composed by PMS for the Seoul, South Korea Hashes From the slimy floors of Stompers, To the booths of Nickelby's; All the way to Gecko's, And that meat market that I see... Everywhere in Itae, And up to Uijongbu; There's something I've been drinkin', And so I sing this song for you... 'Cause I'm proud to be a hasher, Where at least I have my beer; And I won't forget the guy who drove, The van to get it here. And I'll proudly Down-Down, here today, until the mug is clear; 'Cause there is no doubt I love this stuff, BRING... ME... A...NOTHER... BEER!! Well I'd like to go up to the hill, But I can't even stand; But that's okay, here I'll stay, with a cold beer in my hand. Now there's a girl, sitting next to me, And I would like to bet; With every other beer I drink, She'll get better looking yet... 'Cause I'm proud to be a hasher, Where at least I have my beer; And I won't forget the guy who drove, The van to get it here. And I'll proudly Down-Down, here today, until the mug is clear; 'Cause there is no doubt I love this stuff, BRING... ME... A...NOTHER... BEER!! Melody - Son of a Gambolier Adapted from "The Pioneers" by ZiPpy, Pike's Peak H4 Us Pikes Peak hashers are dirty flashers, We piss through leather britches, We wipe our ass with broken glass, Us horny sons of bitches. When cunt is rare, we fuck a bear, We knife him if he snitches, We knock our cocks against the rocks, Us horny sons of bitches. We take our ass upon the grass, In bushes or in ditches, Our two-pound dinks are full of kinks, Us horny sons of bitches. Without remorse, we fuck a horse, And beat him if he twitches, Our two-foot pricks are full of nicks, Us horny sons of bitches. To make a mule stand for the tool, We beat him with hickory switches, We use our pricks for walking sticks, Us horny sons of bitches. Great joy we reap from cornholing sheep, In barns, or bogs, or ditches, Nor give a damn if it be a ram, Us horny sons of bitches. We walk around, prick to the ground, And kick it if it itches, And if it throbs, we scratch it with cobs, Us horny sons of bitches. We masturbate from morn to late, Till our bloody foreskin twitches, Next morning at ten we begin again, Us horny sons of bitches. At Pikes Peak, we got no fears, We do not stop at trifles, We hang our balls on the walls, And shoot at them with rifles. We scrounge a cow and care not how, The shit sticks to our britches, And fetch a bull and fill him full, Us horny sons of bitches. We fuck our wives with butcher knives, And keep their cunts in stitches, But VD makes it hurt to pee, Us horny sons of bitches. Melody - Dixie Contributed by Tree Humper, Richmond HHH, Virginia I wish I was with the Hash in Richmond. Hashes there are really bitchin. Hash away, hash away, hash away, Richmond hash. In the Richmond hash where I was named. Running shiggy trails, drunk and lamed. Hash away, hash away, hash away Richmond Hash. Oh I wish I was in Richmond. Away away. In Richmond land I'll take my stand, And run true trail in Richmond. Away, away, away down South in Richmond. Away, away, away down South in Richmond. Melody - Battle Hymn of the Republic By Tree Humper, Richmond HHH, Virginia Mine eyes have seen the glory of the running of the Hash. We are Hashers, we're from Shanghai and the trails there are a bash. We will run and drink and fall down till we run out of our cash. The Hashers are on trail. On, on, Shanghai Hashers. On, on, Shanghai Hashers. On, on, Shanghai Hashers. Shanghai's on true trail. A Poem of Unestimable Love, Sincerity, and Devotion By StumpSlayer, Carolina Trash Oh, Sluts from Lutz, I hate your guts, You've brought me to my knees. You're everything a man would want, You're beauty, poise, and sleeze. Oh, Sluts from Lutz, you drive me nuts, Your love may make me dead. I'm just a moth drawn to the flame, KrotchKiten, SealedLips, CheeseSpread! Oh, Sluts from Lutz, you give me coconuts, That's far worse than blueballs, I'd laundry suck your underwear, And chew your UnderAlls! Oh, Sluts from Lutz, it may draw yucks, You're my refuge from my strife, Please put your legs around my neck, Be my new leash on life! Oh, Sluts from Lutz, this poem sucks, But not as well as you. Grind your highheels into my chest, While I admire the view ! Oh, Sluts from Lutz, had I more bucks, And could control the weather, I'd rearrange the alphabet, And put U and I together ! Melody - All Things Bright and Beautiful Contributed by Teats de Swamp All things bright and beautiful All creatures great and small All things wise and wonderful We like to eat them all Each little beast that staggers Each little bird that sings We eat their tiny bodies We eat their little wings Each little frog we fondle We'd love to chew and crunch Each little chick we cuddle We'd rather have for lunch All things bright and beautiful All creatures great and small All things wise and wonderful We like to eat them all Chant Contributed by Brett Hall Squannacook once, Squannacook twice Holy jumpin' Jesus Christ Rim-ram, God-damn, Son of a bitch, shit! Melody - Charlie on the MTA (Will He Ever Return?) Contributed by Rob Basford, Boston HHH Oh . . . let me tell you a story about the Boston Hashers They've been here for twenty-four years, Each week they run on flour through shiggy for an hour In an effort to find a few beers! CHORUS: But do we ever complain, no we never complain, From whining we refrain ('cept for "Rectal") We may run forever in the streets of Boston For the beer and shiggy terain. Now "Watergate" she was, once the greatest grand-mattress, 'cause she bitches, she moans, and she . . . shits, She'll slam down on the phone because she has PMS syndrome, But we love her for her really big . . . HEART! Now "Sweet Molasses" has the cutest of asses, A nicer one you'll ne-ver find, When her buttocks wiggle . . . it makes my old boy giggle That's why I like to come from behind! Well all . . . night . . . long . . . "Shine On" waits at the station Crying "what will be-come of me?" How . . . can . . . I . . . afford to see my boyfriend in Roxbury Or my cousins way out in . . . Chel-sea! Now every Boston virgin will hear us all uh urgin' To tell us . . . with who you came, Then you'll hear "Rectal" holler, "Give me your ten dollars!" It's no wonder how he got his name! While "Fat One's" a singin' and we're all here a drinkin' I've been thinking it's been a great day. Then a voice . . . cries out in a very load shout, "I'm 'Rectal' and you all must pay!" Now with the circle hash . . . re-spect is what we expect On private . . . parties we frown, So if you can't shut up then we'll fill up your cu-up And make you drink it . . . DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! When the Hare is "Friar Fuck", we're . . . all shit out of lu-uck He doesn't know his flora at all, So best you be ready to cut with a machete, Through Poison Ivy ten feet tall! Well then there's "Ski Bobbit" who sets hashes like a hobbit, They're difficult but they . . . are . . . fun, Three four hours gone . . . SEO makes the On-On shouting "Who fucking set this run?!" Well "Piece of Tail" waits, at the Scollay Square station, Every day at quarter past two, And through the open window hands . . . "White Flash" a down-down As the train goes rumbling through! Now Boston's got a thriller who'd be a lady killer, Except he's hard on female e-gos, 'Cause when we grab his member, he DOESN'T REMEMBER! It's Narcoleptic Romeo . . . When French Tickler wants to pass, with great legs and ass Male hashers follow with glee But 'though she's fun and silly, you best tuck in your willy 'cause she's got a man in Par-eee Now there ain't no hasher's greater than our own "Master Waiter" It's impossible to get . . . him . . . lost, Ever since that year when he ran right past the beer, 'Found a chesty muddy river to cross! And this is the story of a hasher named "Junky", On a tragic and fateful day, He put ten beers in pocket, kissed his wife and girlfrie-end, And moved to Califor-nee-i-a! Well "Meat Pie" . . . she . . . waits, at the Scolly Square station, Every day at quarter past two, And through the open window hands . . . "No Hands" a few brew-ews As the train goes rumbling through! Melody - Makin' Whoopee Composed by Dennis "Mu-Sick" Gill, Ft Walton Beach HHH, Florida There was a hasher, of forty-five, Not much to look at, but he's alive, He's a disaster, he's our grand master, When hashin', runnin', drinkin', oo-oo-oh. There was a sailor, who fell in love, He met the girl, he was dreamin' of, But he wouldn't marry'er, she's a clap carrier, So now he's hashin', runnin', drinkin', oo-oo-oh. There was an ensign, who liked to smile, When thinkin' of down-downs, durin' her last mile, She chugs beer better, in Barrio Barretta, When she's hashin', runnin', drinkin', oo-oo-oh. There was a hasher, who was in distress, Till he biblically knew our, grand mistress, He's her spiritual advisor, she's his appetizer, When hashin', runnin', drinkin', oo-oo-oh. Melody - The House of the Rising Sun Composed by Flamin' Asshole, Emerald Coast HHH; contributed by M.I.A. There is a hash in New Orleans, They throw a great party each year, With strays and gays in wild parades, And Po' Boys with Dixie beer. Grand Masters, tell your hashers, Take your whistles and go, 'Cause Cajuns there, are rednecks and queers, They take you on blow for blow. The only thing a hasher needs, Is a butt plug and a mug, One to keep queers out of their rears, The other so they can chug. The virgins show up early, They drink, pass out, and are through, The experienced hashers cum later, And cover the virgins in goo. As hashers get up in the morning, Most of them wish they were dead, There's a little man with a hammer, Banging inside of their heads. Now the moral of our story, Mardi Gras is a blast, From the Emerald Coast, we propose a toast, Merci, with our tits and ass. Melody - House of the Rising Sun There is a house in Nittany Valley, They call the Harriers, And it's been the salvation of many a poor boy, And God, I know, I'm there. My Mother was Inferior, An Ann Arbor harriette, My father was the Reverend Poon Tang, A Chemical Waste hasher yet. Now the only thing a hasher needs, Is a shag bag and a beer, The only time that he is satisfied, Is when the beer is near. Oh Mother, tell your children, To do what I did dare, To live their lives in sin and ecstasy, As a Hash House Harrier. With one foot on the beer check, The other foot on the trail, I'm going back to the apres, To chase after bimbo tail. Well, there is a house in Nittany Valley, They call the Harriers, And it's been the salvation of many a poor boy, And God, I know, I'm there. Melody - The Irish Rover I flew into Tokyo, an expat so neat, Some boozy old hashers I happened to meet, I asked to go hashing, they answered me "Nay, For wimps such as you we can find any day." CHORUS: And it's no nay never, no nay no never no more, Shall I play the wild hasher, no never no more. I took out my checkbook all shiny and bright, The hash cash's eyes they lit up with delight, He said, "Gladly we'll welcome you as one of the rank, As soon as your check has been cleared by the bank." They sold me a T-shirt at exhorbitant price, Then we went hashing, 'twas ever so nice, At the last checkpoint we lost three without trace, And back at the On In we all got shit faced. I've hashed the world over in places far and near, I fondled the women and drank all the beer, And now I'm returning with tales for to tell, Of checkbacks unending and shortcuts through hell. Now all I have left is a beer-stained T-shirt, And my Nikes are covered in shiggy and dirt, My wife she has left me because of the pong, And this is the end of my terrible song. Melody - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen By Dances With Dogs, Oregon HHH Note: "Warriers" is spelled that way on purpose - F.B. The Warriers had a meeting They came from near and far Some came by jet airliner Some came from Manly's bar And when they were assembled The Dog the Bitch and Man Out popped our Cornballer From the fucking can One Warrier still was missing We had tried to shake him loose But Scrotum came upon us Swilling in the Goose There we Warriers gamboled Without a worry or care When a crazed and drunken bimbo yelled "Hey, we're supposed to hare!" So to the next bar we rambled To wile away an hour When another skanky bimbo yelled "We forgot the fucking flour!" As we staggered back to the box With our legs between our tail We had spent eight hours in many a bar But not a second scouting trail There Lips did loan us a sacred vessel In which we shall not shit As long as Battered Woman And Killer stay away from it But to those Warrier bimbos Who we thought we could not top Throughout the chef's hat dance Their laughter would not stop So then we all decided With ice shoved up our ass Monster not Baller is going to come To our next fucking Warrier hash Of course we do realize That for our next Warrier trail If Monster's coming with us Well be setting his fucking bail But this tale cannot yet end Without thanks to the Oregon Hash And kidnap victim number three Much honor to deep gash Melody - Charlie on the MTA (Will He Ever Return?) By Mouthful, Oregon HHH Let me tell you the story of a Hasher named Wetspots on a tragic and fateful day. She put flour in her pocket, kissed her best man Stinky and proceeded to lay the trail. Oh . . . The . . . Trail it was abysmal and the checks they were pathetic and the logic just didn't jibe. She left beer in Hobo Heaven, thought it actually would stay there and continued to keep on smilin'. Well the hounds said "It's outrageous," and the co-Hare was adamant, that ol' Wetspots was our blond friend. But dear Wetspots didn't get it. Kept on telling us we loved it. Was determined to hash without end. Oh will she ever return, no she'll never return. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She is banned from laying trail. She decided she would greet us at the tavern she would meet us. She was greeted with so much rage. And after produce row she led us, from the city then she sped us. Now her half-mind was unengaged. Oh will she ever return, no she'll never return. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She is banned from laying trail. After Hal's the Hounds took action, 'twas a desperate reaction, and they followed the Hares outside. In four blocks they saw the reason, why the trail it wasn't pleasin' as the Hares prepared to drive. Oh will she ever return, no she'll never return. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She is banned from laying trail. Then our most exalted Tyrant stuck his head inside her window and proceeded to grab her keys. There she sat in all that traffic, and the hounds they were a laughing, 'til her shorts came off over her knees. Oh will she ever return, no she'll never return. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She is banned from laying trail. At . . . Old . . . Town . . . Pizza we assembled for a session that resembled something of a lynch partee. Each had found his own way back, but we were ne'er again on track for no flour did we see. It was a Horrid Hash disaster, that will live for ever after in the annals of infamy . . . As the day when our dear Wetspots grabbed her final sack of flour and she sealed her destiny. Oh will she ever return, no she'll never return. She is banned from laying trail. She may run with us tomorrow, but her Hare we will not follow. She is banned from laying trail. Melody - Unknown Contributed by SmegmaBalls, White House HHH We're the White House Hashers Scum of the earth, Scourge of crea-a-tion, God-forsaken-fornicating-son-of-a-bitches, Found in every whore house, Drink, suck, and scre-e-ew, We're the White House Hash, and we say, fuck, YOU! Melody - same as for "Marriage a la Mode" Composed by Pole Pounder, contributed by Horny Toad CHORUS: Drink a little bit, run a little bit, Follow the hash, follow the hash, follow the hash. Drink a little bit, run a little bit, follow the hash, Join in our happy song. Mighty fine hares are they, are they, Mighty fine hares are they. They mark the true trail with bottles of ale, And mark false ones with three lines of pee. Mighty fine hashers are they, are they, Mighty fine hashers are they. They can't run, they can't sing, but they're good for one thing, They have the keys to the old brewery. Mighty fine virgins are they, are they, Mighty fine virgins are they. They're tired and they're thirsty and their clothes are all dirty, But there's no place that they'd rather be. A front-running bastard is __________, is __________, A front-running bastard is (s)he. (S)he thinks it's a race till (s)he falls flat on her/his face, And skins up her/his cute little knees. A short-cutting bastard is __________, is __________, A short-utting bastard is (s)he. (S)he ran off the true trail and started to wail, "Help, I'm up to my neck in shiggy!" |