Tralala, in your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure Deep greedy and Googling every corner Dead in the middle of the C-O-double M-O-N Little did I know then that the Mandela Boys soon become Mandela Men Tall woman, pull the pylons down And wrap them around the necks of all the feckless men that queue to be the next Steepled fingers, ring leaders, queue jumpers, rock fist paper scissors, lingered fluffers In your hoof lies the heartland Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure, les yeux, it’s all in your eyes In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure Deep greedy and Googling every corner Blended by the lights