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 la-la-la-la-leaders
Queue jumpers, rock fist paper scissors, la-la-la-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