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bruce dickinson - i'm in a band with an italian drummer lyrics

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(c. dale)

chorus:
i’m in a band with an italian drummer
and all the girls just fall in his lap
i’m in a band with an italian drummer
but for a foreigner he’s quite a nice chap

he just cooks pasta, always faster
he smokes with his father, makes good carbonara
his c-ck’s too long to fit in this song
he shaves his legs and always thinks about s-x
his hands have blisters, don’t trust him with your sisters
he talks baloni and eats rigatoni
his name’s on his sticks, he’s got smelly armpits
and when he plays his drums it sounds like this

repeat chorus

he’s really italian, hung like a stallion
he never takes a rest from chasing br–sts and legs
he hates peter criss but he still likes kiss
and when he plays his drums it sounds like this

repeat chorus

“the characters described in this song are fict-tious and
any similarity to real people living or dead is entirely
coincidental and unintentional”

repeat chorus

he’s really italian, he’s hung like a stallion
his c-ck’s too long to fit in this song
he shaves his legs, always thinks about s-x
his hands have blisters, don’t trust him with your sisters

he talks baloni and eats rigatoni
his name’s on his sticks, he’s got smelly armpits
when he plays his drums…

…do you know someone like this

i’m in a band with an italian drummer
i’m in a band with a foreign chap (repeat in infinity)

“you know son, it’s like this you see.
we met him down the pub one day and eerm…
he looked a bit of a geezer at the time.
ha! it was only when we gave him a f-cking saxophone
that he discovered he was a f-cking drummer didn’t he!
f-cking c-nt!
so we got rid of his saxophone and eerm…
put these drums there instead. and eerm…
he was a star really.
and there’s nothing we can do about it really.”

i’m in a band, in a band, in a band…

“hey, are you f-cking talking to me, aye?

minchia! minchia! minchia! e’ come se metti del
peperoncino nel culo di una porta che scoreggia nuvole di nero.
e poi c’era una vacca… io non ho capito che dice questo
ragazzo inglese… non mi ricordo.

ehi vito, ma che cazzo dice, eh?!
e te l’ho detto, io non capisco una minchia questo
ragazzo straniero.

…f-cking talking to you, aye! ah, think so!
andate a ‘fanculo!”

translation:
(more or less):

“d-ck! d-ck! d-ck! (in sicilian dialect)
it’s like if you put some pepper in the -ss of a door (?)
that farts black clouds.

and then there was a cow… i don’t undestand what this
english boy is saying… i don’t remember.

ehi vito, what does that d-ck say, eh?
and i told you, i don’t understand this stranger boy.

…f-cking talking to you, aye! ah, think so!

f-ck off!”

- bruce dickinson lyrics

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