(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