| Em | |
| Oh cheeky cheeky |
| Bm | |
| Oh naughty sneeky |
| D | A | |
| You're so perceptive and I | wonder how you knew. |
| Chorus |
| G | G/G# | A | |
| But these | finks don't | walk too well |
| A bad sense of direction |
| And so they stumble round in threes |
| Such a strange collection. |
| (Verse) |
| Oh you headless chicken |
| Can those poor teeth take so much kicking? |
| You're always so charming |
| As you peck your way up there. |
| (Chorus) |
| And these finks don't dress too well |
| No discrimination |
| To be a zombie all the time |
| Requires such dedication. |
| E | A | |
| Oh please, sir will you | let it go by |
| B | B6 | B | |
| 'cos | I failed both tests with my | legs both | tied |
| In my place the stuff is all there |
| I've been ever so sad for a very long time |
| My my they wanted the works can you this and that |
| I never got a letter back |
| More fool me bless my soul |
| More fool me bless my soul. |
| (Verse) |
| Oh perfect masters |
| They thrive on disasters |
| They all look so harmless |
| Till they find there way up there. |
| (Chorus) |
| But dead finks don't talk too well |
| They've got a shaky sense of diction |
| It's not so much a living hell |
| It's just a dying fiction. |
| Then it's something on the 7 6 and 8s of the A and D stirng' listen to the record, |
| the part's fairly useless anyways. |
| A-2- | |
| E-X- |
| I'm fairly sure it's correct. |