And all the world over, each nation's the same;
They've simply no mission of playing the game.
They argue with umpires - they cheer when they've won
And they practice beforehand, which ruins the fun.
The English are moral, the English are good
And clever, and modest, and misunderstood!

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Away on the hilltop sat combing her hair
His fair Hippopotamine maid.
The Hippopotamus was no ignoramus
And sang her this sweet serenade: Mud! Mud! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So, follow me, follow, down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud.

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