I want a bowler, an English bowler. That's all I'm yearning for and nothing more than that. I'll wear my bowler when I'm yachting or gavotting with my friends, I'll tip it lightly to the ladies from my white Mercedes-Benz. I'll take it clubbing and hobo-snubbing, and elbow-rubbing with some shady diplomats. And when I buy the Taj Mahal and host a Frauds and Felons Ball, I'll sport my modest little English bowler hat.
I want a tooth, one golden tooth to keep my tongue from hanging loose.
Dining with the king and queen of Spain, I'll use it to crack open the champagne.
Tell you the truth, I want a tooth... One that I can lie through.
Dames will find me dashing when they see my flashing my gold tooth.