My Lovely Moustache My lovely moustache, I’ll take it to work, and look at it in a furtive way. My lovely moustache, admired by women. They kiss me and hope it doesn’t rub off. I’ll take my moustache to the zoo, and show off in front of the walrus. I’ll stand next to pictures of General Kitchener, Kaiser Wilhelm too. My lovely moustache, it’s beautifully shiny, my lovely moustache, cor blimey, A moustache is a man’s best friend, or a very lucky woman. Children admire you, and men they aspire to be who you are, a moustachioed tsar. My upper lip will never feel the taste of razor blade. I’ll twirl and wax and groom in the bathroom, I’ll defend it to the death. My lovely moustache. My lovely moustache, like a facial panther, My lovely moustache, I call it Samantha. I’ll take my moustache to the fair, and show off in front of the strong man, go to fancy dress parties as Salvador Dali, Ivan the Terrible too. My lovely moustache, allegedly regal, my lovely moustache, like the wings of an eagle. It would look out of place on a dog, and that’s why they have whiskers. I know how it feels to run through the fields with my eleven moustachioed sisters. And my lovely, most beautifully shiny, cor blimey Charlie, moustache.