Oh cheeky cheeky
Oh naughty sneeky
Youre so perceptive and I wonder how you knew.

But these finks dont walk too well
A bad sense of direction
And so they stumble round in threes
Such a strange collection.

Oh you headless chicken
Can those poor teeth take so much kicking?
Youre always so charming
As you peck your way up there.

And these finks dont dress too well
No discrimination
To be a zombie all the time
Requires such dedication.

Oh please, sir will you let it go by
cos I failed both tests with my legs both tied
In my place the stuff is all there
Ive been ever so sad for a very long time
My my they wanted the works can you this and that
I never got a letter back
More fool me bless my soul
More fool me bless my soul.

Oh perfect masters
They thrive on disasters
They all look so harmless
Till they find there way up there.

But dead finks dont talk too well
Theyve got a shaky sense of diction
Its not so much a living hell
Its just a dying fiction.

Thanks to (michel merz) for correcting these lyrics. Jan 1, 2008

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