Fitzpleasure - alt-J

Tra-la-la, tra-la, tra-a-la

La, tra-la-la, tra-la, tra-a-la

La, tra-la-la, tra-la, tra-a-la

La, tra-la-la, tra-la

In your snatch fits pleasure, broom-shaped pleasure

Deep greedy and googling every corner

La, tra-la, tra-a-la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la

Dead in the middle

Of the C-O-double-M O-N

Little did I know then

That the Mandela Boys soon become Mandela Men

Tall woman

Pull the pylons down

And wrap them around the necks

Of all the feckless men that queue to be the next

Steepled fingers

Ring la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-leaders

Queue-queue

Jumpers

Rock, fist, paper, scissors, la-la-la-la-la-la-lingered fluffers

They choir:

In your hoof lies the heartland

Where we tent for our treasure, pleasure, leisure

Les yeux, it’s all in your eyes

In your snatch fits pleasure, a broom-shaped pleasure

Deep greedy and googling every corner

Tralala, trala, tra-la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la

Oh, oh, oh, oh, blended by the lights