When the itty-bitty woodpecker comes tap-tappin' along, He makes me sing the most interestin' songs. He starts a good beat and I move my feet, We got the groove right and all the birdies start to tweet. Tap, tap, tappity tap! Hey, hey, listen to that! He's got rhythm in his beak, His head is red, it's a punked-out streak. And he's got a raw rhythm down to his itty-bitty feet. His little babies follow suit, Their tappin' is so doggone cute. Little heads don't miss a note, Each one a lovely little soul. And soul they got, From their tappin' heads To their tippy-tappin' toes. You oughta hear 'em go On cool mornings when the temperature's just right, And they've rested up good all night. It's a full woodpecker band delight! That's right! (Yeah, right!) So right! Delightful! Tippity tap, listen to that! Now the little guy's doin' some rap. He's got the moves, Slides 'round the tree sideways for the blues, And goes straight up for rockin' tunes. If you ever hear him, show him some love, 'Cause he and his band are the rockin', tip-tappin', rappin' punkers of love. With beaks that strike the fire of supersonic desire, And tap out the heartbeat of birdsong choirs.
