Tekst
Tra la la tra la tra-ah la
La
Tra la la tra la tra-ah la
La
Tra la la tra la tra-ah la
La
Tra la la tra la tra-ah
In your snatch fitzpleasure
Broom-shaped pleasure
Deep greedy and googling every corner
La tra la tra-ah la
La la la la la la la
Dead in the middle
Of the C-O double M-O-N
Little did I know then
That the Mandela Boys soon become Mandela Men
Tall woman
Pull the pylons down
And wrap them around the necks
Of all the feckless men that queue to be the next
Steepled fingers
Ring la la la la la la la la leaders
Queue jumpers
Rock fist paper scissors, la la la la la la lingered fluffers (the choir)
In your hoof lies the heartland
Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure
Les yeux, it's all in your eyes
In your snatch fitzpleasure
A broom-shaped pleasure
Deep greedy and googling every corner
Tra la la tra la tra-ah la
La la la la la la la
Ohhhhhhh
Blended by the lights
