Tralala tralala...

In your snatch fits pleasure
Broom-shaped pleasure
Deep greedy and Googling every corner

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 leaders
Queue jumpers
Rock, fist, paper, scissors
Lingered fluffers
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 fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure,
Deep greedy and Googling every corner

Tralala tralala...
Blended by the lights.