I sing ta ta with my guitar
My Father was a nut from Barcelon-i-a
And so was my Ma - so there you are
Oh you ought to see me in the arena
I smack the bulls and break their skulls
I've got medals and things from Princess Ena
For being a ‘flier' and a bit of a ‘story'.
Chorus: Plink plonk Plink plonk, don't go to the bar
Plink plonk Plink plonk, please stay where you are
You'll hear me plink. You'll hear me plonk and then you'll shout, “Hip-Hip-Hoorah”
And you'll wish that I was strangled with the strings of my guitar.
I used to be a brigand on the mountains
U-lay-a-tee. U-lay-a-too
You've heard about the bandy-legged ‘ero
Well, that was me. Excelsior
You ought to see me dance the old fandango
I go like this, I go like that
All the other Spaniards take their clogs off
Refuse to dance. They've got no chance.
Chorus: Plink plonk Plink plonk. Kubelik is grand
Plink plonk Plink plonk, so is Sousa's band
They all can plink, they all can plonk but I have licked them all so far
I defy Lloyd George and Hackenschmidt to plonk on my guitar.
When King Alphonse saw me in the bullring
He screamed, ‘Poloose'. That means police
He sent for all his pals, the Kings of Europe
To see me beat the potted meat
Said I, “Why don't you send your bulls and cows out?”
Tar-rah-tar-or Excelsior
When I kicked a couple of bullocks brains out
Then all the Kings said pretty things.
Chorus: Plink, plonk, plink, plonk, the Sultan and the Shah
Plink, plonk, plink, plonk, they shouted out Hoorah
My head was swelled with expectations of a medal with a bar
But all they pinned upon my chest was this rotten old guitar.
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