| Don' t ski naked down Mt. Everest
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| With lilies up your nose
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| Don' t punt up the Ganges in a vest
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| And holler 'Thar she blows'
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| Don' t fish for tunny in Meat Madras
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| With blotting pads as bait
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| Don' t converse with shrimps of higher class
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| About the church and state
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| I’d play hoop-la with Saturn’s rings
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| I’d tie a knot in Erroll Flynn’s
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| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee ying
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| For you
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| Don’t dance the polka in a dhoti
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| Arid whistle the Rite of Spring
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| Don’t recite Hamlet’s soliloquy
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| While munching onion rings
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| Don' t plant a stickleback in a field
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| On St. Augustine’s Day
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| Don' t sharpen your sword and beat your shield
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| And somersault up a brae
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| I’d juggle with Jupiter’s moons
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| I’d flatten the Sahara’s dunes
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| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee yoon
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| Don' t build a pyramid on the pole
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| With Frosties packets and glue
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| Don' t serve rubber bullets in a bowl
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| And call it Irish Stew
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| Don' t change all the water into wine
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| And walk on the Dead Sea
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| Never sing the Song of the Golden Rhine
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| With an augmented flea
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| I’d make a world in seven days
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| I’d pasteurise the Milky Way
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| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee yay
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| I’d play hoop-la with Saturn’s rings
|
| I’d tie a knot in Erroll Flynn’s
|
| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee ying
|
| I’d juggle with Jupiter’s moons
|
| I’d flatten the Sahara’s dunes
|
| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yi pee yoon
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| I’d kick Mars into a black hole
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| I’d spread plum jam on Denning’s rolls
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| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee yole
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| I’d squeeze the spots out from the sun
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| I’d swim the Mare Imbrium
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| Sing, yi yi yip, yip yipee yun
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| Mush a ding, toodle eye-ay
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| Tara diddle dyno day
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| Yi yi yip, yip yipee yay |