[Acoustic Guitar Intro - Complex Fingerstyle in 7/8 time] [Verse One] He rolled out of Camborne looking like a budget Poldark With a breath that could quench a thirsty dragon in the dark He’s wearing knock-off wellies and a vest made of string While trying to do a rap about his local cider king (He’s a proper tool!) He’s got a pasty in his pocket and it’s leaking warm gravy Claims he did a week of training in the Royal Navy But he gets sea-sick in a bathtub with a plastic duck Now he’s stuck in a rhythmic loop and he’s absolutely stuck One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven beats of pure shame Even his own sheep don't want to know his bloody name [Chorus] [Relentless Energy] Oggie Oggie Oggie! (Oi! Oi! Oi!) He’s falling down the stairs like a bag of wet toys! Oggie Oggie Oggie! (Oi! Oi! Oi!) Making far too much of a bloody stupid noise! He’s a Cornish disaster in a math-folk trance Doing a pathetic little Morris-style dance! [Verse Two] [Fast Rap] He tried to buy a pint with a handful of sea shells Now he’s tripping over rhythms and he’s ringing his own bells Sixty Nine pence is all he’s got in his purse But his freestyle flow is getting progressively worse (It’s a travesty!) He’s got a tractor license but he can’t drive a joke He’s a walking punchline for the Newport folk He said "I’m the big man from the Land’s End crew" But he’s just a sad lad with a face like a shoe Five Hundred and Twenty Two miles from a clue He’s got the intellectual depth of a pot of glue [Bridge] [Guitar Body Percussion - Intricate Slapping] [Spoken Word - Deadpan] Look at him. Look at his little face. He’s trying to understand a complex time signature while his brain is still processing the concept of indoor plumbing. Absolute state of it. (Proper minging!) [Chorus] Oggie Oggie Oggie! (Oi! Oi! Oi!) He’s falling down the stairs like a bag of wet toys! Oggie Oggie Oggie! (Oi! Oi! Oi!) Making far too much of a bloody stupid noise! He’s a Cornish disaster in a math-folk trance Doing a pathetic little Morris-style dance! [Outro] [Rapid Fingerstyle Guitar Build-up] Go back to the tin mines, you absolute melon! Your rapping is a statutory criminal felon! One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven! You’re never getting into math-folk heaven! [Abrupt Stop] [Laughter] Put your trousers back on, Jory!
