But what if I put out me back? I'll have to call out the quack He'll give good advice Which will be so nice But I don't fancy being stretched on a rack!
Let`s all GNetters form a brass band With trombone and trumpet we`re grand We`ll stomp through the streets Marching to the beats Till at the local pub we land.
It`s the conductor`s turn to get a round in But sadly, he`s brassic, let`s rattle the tin Sao the punters can pay We`ll have a great day Then go back to making a din!
Last night I took a flight to the moon Then found out there's no return flight till June! I booked Thomas Cook All my savings it took And there's nowt to do but sit on this dune.
Will I land back on Earth with a nasty bump? On my head, or maybe my rump Whatever, there`ll surely be A crew from the BBC Asking why I`ve come back to this dump.