[00:05.50]Here comes Nicholas, fiddle in hand,
[00:11.71]into a world that he can't understand.
[00:17.48]You can't keep pace with the master race,
[00:20.61]his feet they're going all over the place
[00:23.46]he can't see his moves cos there's egg on his face.
[00:27.78]Dance, idiot, dance!
[00:31.01]
[00:36.64]His body's as stiff as a cold lasagne,
[00:42.27]'cos all he knows is 'Rule Brittannia'.
[00:48.30]His rhythm's so bad that we're supposin'
[00:51.37]maybe it's cos his legs are frozen?
[00:54.31]Shouldn't be wearing lederhosen!
[00:58.72]Dance, idiot, dance!
[01:01.50]
[01:38.36]Messianical look in his eye,
[01:43.97]arms akimbo, slapping his thigh.
[01:49.86]He wrinkles his snout at a likely wench
[01:52.82]（we've censored her answer and pardoned her French）
[01:55.82]it's hard for your average Ubermensch.
[02:00.04]Dance, idiot, dance!
[02:03.24]
[02:09.06]Poor old Nicholas got up today,
[02:14.58]to Cecil Sharpe House he made his way.
[02:20.48]Wore his uniform just to impress and said,
[02:24.23]"this must be the place, I guess, for joining the EFD-SS?"
[02:30.84]Dance, idiot, dance!
[02:34.23]