Now doing without is a bitch.
I’ve a plan and there should be no hitch.
I’m a resourceful bloke
And I won’t be long broke,
For I’ll identify as Trans-Rich.
Yes it’s true – it is not a disease.
I identify as a Chinese.
I think noodles are nice
And I eat heaps of rice,
Not to mention grasshoppers and bees.
Straight vodka’s my favourite drink
And my politics, soviet pink.
My eyebrows are bushy.
I’m testy and pushy.
I think that Obama’s a fink.
I like to drink spirits and beer,
And the bush, I just have to be near.
I draw hands on cave walls
And I eat wombat balls.
(That’s wombat meat-balls, to be clear)
I’m Irish, I tink, to be sure.
I gamble and drink and I’m poor.
I dance reels and jigs;
I dislike English pigs,
And I have no respect for their law.
I’m tall and I’m white and I’m thin,
But I have a dark secret within:
For I am a pygmy –
(My white friends don’t dig me)
Small black jungle folk are my kin.