(I'm not cheating)

Oooh, oooh

Everything is !@%^y Doo
Everything you do
You, the king of La-Di-Da

Pretty very out far
Never oversits, he understands
Like the back of the hand

He should sing in a band, oh yeah

Oooh, oooh

People think he's Loopey Loo
And when they look at his shoes
He's a rocking sausage roll

He gets it in the goal
Healthy little 'brown affair'
And when he washes his hair

He'll get a round or a square
Get them singing


Oooh, oooh
Everyone from Oxford town
Way down to the Rio Grande


Knows his harbour quays
His skin tight hands, without seggs

His name is Legs

[talking]


Oooh, oooh
Coolies sweating in Hong Kong

Run along to the Mardi Grass

Risking asian flu to meet the man

Who lays the eggs
His name is Legs


He's a cure for whooping cough
And if the going gets rough
Get lined up, come Sikh, come Czar

No matter who you are
We could get along and slide a rule
And if you don't play fools

While Larry plays pool
You'll hear him singing


Oooh, oooh
[talking]
Oooh, oooh