Like a baker's dozen, only not for fun,
With an extra fennel in the thirteenth one.
You're not gonna have it, and we'll have to show you,
Yea, we'll have to show you exactly how it's done!

The Ministry Of Love
Will take time to explain it all...

An angora baby, or a crashing bore
Will waste the finite a little time more.
Then we'll drag 'em outside, and you know they will,
Yea, you know they will and we'll even up the score!

Your Big Brother can explain
How all this lovin's not in vain...

One, two, three to eight,
You will come to appreciate
Nine, ten, eleven and twenty,
We'll all be thin and have more money.

He may know his stars, but not his body;
That is some excuse (it's pretty shoddy).
Be a dancin' fool, or sneezin' malotty,
Something forgotten is gone when it is far!

The Ministry Of Love
Will take time to explain it all...

One, two, three to eight,
You will come to appreciate
Nine, ten, eleven and twenty,
We'll all be thin and have more money.

Back to Petrosneef...
Back to Clubhouse Wreckards...