People can’t help but point and laugh
When I proudly show them his photograph
They stare at his obsolete wings
They don’t appreciate the songs that he sings

The joke that his pokey proboscis
Must get in the way when we kiss
But I don’t listen
I can take their flack
It’s like water off a flightless bird’s back
For he is the one who completes me
My six foot four Kiwi

He may not have the voice of a lyrebird
He may not have the strength of a cock
He may have a primitive avian brain
Bus as everyone knows he knows loads about rock
And when people in the street want to know
What his name is he says, “Hello, I’m Alan Brough”
He’s my immigrant, endangered species
My six foot four Kiwi

He’s everything a national emblem should be
If he was a fruit he’d be green and fuzzy
He should have has own TV series
My six foot four Kiwi
He’s really tall and he’s from New Zealand