There's an old Virginian vibraphone

With a calculated gait

And a man who thinks he's Al Capone

With a cumberbund and cape



Don't criticize what a vicar would prize in you

And talk to the man if you feel he needs talking to

And the hobbit on the rocks is crying

And the fish upon the docks are dying



There's an orchestra in rococo

and an insulated dwarf

And the ships are sinking in the sea

As they sail from the shores



Don't criticize what a vicar would prize in you



And the hobbit on the rocks is crying

And the fish upon the docks are dying

And the hobbit on the rocks is crying

For the grunion in the sand entwining



Don't criticize what a vicar would prize in you

And talk to yourself if you feel you need talking to