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
