It's the Egg Marketing Board Tango,
In other words, the dance of love.
You go down to the pallet and you're eager
for a dance,
You see a lovely stranger and your eyes meet
quite by chance.
She's warm and she's desirable with lips meant
to be kissed,
So you stand eight feet apart and do the twist.
Oh Lor'!
But in the tango you gets the chance to hold
her oh so near,
As you gaze into her lovely eyes of blue.
And while you're dancing you whisper sweet
nothings in her ear,
And she says, "Sweet nothing doing," back
to you.
You give her ear a nibble, you give her cheek
a peck,
You've got her in a grip of steel, you're
breathing down her neck.
And then she says those magic words that thrill
you through and through,
"You've been eating pickled onions, haven't
you? Oh poo!"
Once I met a girl called Kitty who pretty as
could be,
She lived up in the city and she asked me
'round to tea.
But pretty, witty Kitty, she tried to pull
my leg,
So I hit her, what a pity, with a soft-boiled
egg.
Then the wireless played a tango and I held
her in my arms,
As we swayed and we glided 'round the room.
And when her dad came in we carried on, alas
I didn't know,
He was deaf and he couldn't hear the tune.
He punched me in the ear-o, he hit me with
a vase,
He chased me down the garden and he kicked
me on the grass.
But now I swear I'm finished, as true as stars
above,
With the tango, the dance of love.
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