Текст песни Dance, Idiot, Dance - Chumbawamba
Here
comes
Nicholas,
fiddle
in
hand,
Into
a
world
that
he
can't
understand.
You
can't
keep
pace
with
the
master
Race,
his
feet
they're
going
all
over
The
place
- he
can't
see
his
moves
cos
There's
egg
on
his
face.
Dance,
idiot,
Dance!
His
body's
as
stiff
as
A
cold
lasagne,
'cos
all
he
knows
is
'Rule
Brittannia'.
His
rhythm's
so
bad
That
we're
supposin'
- maybe
it's
cos
His
legs
are
frozen?
Shouldn't
be
Wearing
lederhosen!
Dance,
idiot,
Dance!
Messianical
look
in
his
eye,
Arms
akimbo,
slapping
his
thigh.
He
Wrinkles
his
snout
at
a
likely
wench
(We've
censored
her
answer
and
Pardoned
her
French)
- it's
hard
for
Your
average
Ubermensch.
Dance,
Idiot,
dance!
Poor
old
Nicholas
got
Up
today,
to
Cecil
Sharpe
House
he
Made
his
way.
Wore
his
uniform
just
To
impress
and
said,
"this
must
be
the
Place,
I
guess,
for
joining
the
EFD-SS?"
Dance,
idiot,
dance!
1 Introduction
2 Voices, That's All
3 Pickle
4 Wagner At The Opera
5 Underground
6 Torturing James Hetfield
7 The Devil's Interval
8 Hammer Stirrup & Anvil
9 Puccini Said
10 That Same So-So Tune
11 Singing Out The Days
12 You Don't Exist
13 The Song Collector
14 Missed
15 Ratatatay
16 New York Song
17 Dance, Idiot, Dance
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