| That gorilla you’re dancing with
|
| May not have too long to live
|
| He’s putting his hands in the wrong places
|
| Time to rearrange his face
|
| He’s gonna dance with me instead
|
| I’m gonna tap dance on his head
|
| Don’t tempt me
|
| I’m half-way out of my seat
|
| He’s got the looks, he’s got the lolly
|
| Driving me clean off my trolley
|
| Doing the jitterbug, doing the jive
|
| Doing the shimmy, snakes alive
|
| That’s not a dance, that’s S-E-X
|
| Ban that couple, certificate X!
|
| Get yer mittens off my gal
|
| Or you’ll end up as mincemeat pal
|
| I’ve got friends, mean sons
|
| They’ve got knives, chains, guns
|
| Gas, grenades, knuckle-dusters,
|
| Lazy Susans, Blockbusters
|
| I’m sitting here, calm as I can
|
| While you polish the floor with another man
|
| I’m not mad, I’m a cuddly toy
|
| Just keep me away from laughing boy
|
| You say he’s a relative, some hope
|
| If he’s your uncle, I’m the Pope! |