歌词
Here comes Nicholas, fiddle in hand
Dance, idiot, dance
Into a world that he can't understand
Dance, idiot, dance
You can't keep pace with the master race
His feet, they're going all over the place
He can't see his moves 'cause there's egg on his face
Dance, idiot dance
His body's as stiff as a cold lasagna
Dance, idiot, dance
'Cause all he knows is 'Rule Britannia'
Dance, idiot, dance
His rhythm's so bad that we're supposin'
Maybe it's 'cause his legs are frozen
Shouldn't be wearing lederhosen
Dance, idiot dance
Messianical look in his eye
Dance, idiot, dance
Arms akimbo, slapping his thigh
Dance, idiot, dance
He wrinkles his snout at a likely wench
We've censored her answer and pardoned her French
It's hard for your average Übermensch
Dance, idiot, dance
Poor old Nicholas got up today
Dance, idiot, dance
To Cecil Sharpe House he made his way
Dance, idiot, dance
Wore his uniform just to impress
And said, "This must be the place, I guess
For joining the EFD-SS?"
Dance, idiot, dance
Written by: Jim Boyes, Jo Freya, Lester Simpson, Ray Hearne
