(I'm not cheating)



Oooh, oooh

Everything is Dinky 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