Béast from méadows of Cápe Town,
His vúlpine táil wág round,
Háving nó mindful sóund
An’ no pénny to blów,
Bórn by vóid, he is frántic,
And víciously errátic
Are vóodoo and hís mágic
Of vínyl belów.
Shárp like a jíg,
Nó, dón’t impále me,
Óh, you’d bétter keep pláying,
Please, Í want yóu to pláy.
Oh, hít it or míss,
We sháll pláy it óver
Pítch-black tóp hats agáin on
And thén ask for páy.
Béast ‘n shábby and rág dréss
Stítched with nínety nine óld thréads
Fróm the Cápe of the Góod Hope
And Wícked Surpríse.
Whíle the récord’s still twírling
Like wáter that hé’s swírling,
He’ll líght the fire that’s búrnin’ úp
His déadly devíce.
Shárp like a jíg,
Nó, dón’t impále me,
Óh, you’d bétter keep pláying,
Please, Í want yóu to pláy.
Well, hít it or míss,
We sháll pláy it óver
Plácing bets on the bláck pawns
And thén ask for páy.
Dóes the Éarth let ’im hóld on?
No ídol is bráve tó learn.
Tell whát is óur best cárd now,
Ís it bódy or sóul?
Táke the wáx doll and gíve it
The pówer to móve ánd breathe
Ánd, pierced bý the pine néedle,
To sílently gó.
Shárp like a jíg,
Nó, dón’t impále me,
Lét the gáme have a lóng run,
I bég you áll to pláy.
Oh, hít it or míss,
We sháll pláy it óver
Pítch-black tóp hats agáin on
And thén ask for páy.
Béast of the jíg,
Yéah, gíve it fréedom!
Ít has néver been páinful –
Kéep rólling ón!
'Cause thát’s how life spríngs,
All the brávest can dánce off.
Behóld néw snów-white háts on
And shóut encóre!