Here comes Nicholas, fiddle in hand
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
Into a world that he can't understand
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
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 lasagna
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
'Cos all he knows is 'Rule Brittannia'
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
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
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
Arms akimbo, slapping his thigh
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
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
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
To Cecil Sharpe House he made his way
(Dance, idiot, dance!)
Wore his uniform just to impress
And said, "this must be the place, I guess
For joining the EFD-SS?"
Dance, idiot, dance!