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Oh cheeky, cheeky |
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Oh naughty sneaky |
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You're so perceptive |
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And I wonder how you knew |
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But these finks don't walk too well |
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A bad sense of direction |
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And so they stumble 'round in three's |
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Such a strange collection |
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Oh you headless chicken |
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Can those poor teeth take so much kicking? |
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You're always so charming |
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As you peck your way up there |
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And these finks don't dress too well |
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No discrimination |
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To be a zombie all the time |
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Requires such dedication |
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Oh please sir, will you let it go by |
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'Cause I failed both tests with my legs both tied |
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In my place the stuff is all there |
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I've been ever so sad for a very long time |
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My, my they wanted the works, can you this and that? |
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I never got a letter back |
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More fool me, bless my soul |
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More fool me, bless my soul |
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More fool me, bless my soul |
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Oh perfect masters |
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They thrive on disasters |
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They all look so harmless |
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Till they find their way up there |
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But dead finks don't talk too well |
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They've got a shaky sense of diction |
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It's not so much a living hell |
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It's just a dying fiction |
