Invitation To The Ping-Pong Ball

In the alleyways of Peking And the streets of old Shanghai, The restaurants do good business And the Rickshaws rattle by. The Oriental Wombles fill The Chinese litter bins With nuts and bolts and boiling rice And old chop suey tins. You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall. You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall. From the Yangtze Kyang Basin To the Shantung Mountain Hills They exercise their Oriental Litter-picking skills. There's an ancient Womble Proverb Which they sing to the Yellow Seas; "He who cleans the countryside Deserves to be Chinese." You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall. You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall. All the harbour lights are shining And the band begins to play The chopsticks hit the drums so hard That you jump out of the way. Chinatown is moving To the Koto and the flute, And the sound of Shanghai Wombles Eating crunchy bamboo shoots. You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall. You're invited to the Ping-Pong Ball In the Chinese Wombling Ping-Pong-Ball Hall...