Oh oh the French Girls with the string of pearls

Think it's such a fucking shame

That the local boys with their country joys

Never make them daisy chains

They're swapping disappointing incidents

While at the docks another ship pulls in

And suddenly the door breaks down (ooh la la)

It's the Seven Deadly Finns





Oh oh oh soldiers and sailors

Have all been here before

Gigolos and governments

Have tumbled through that door

Because they need those French girls with all their kiss curls

And powder in their guns

And the Seven Finns with their deadly grins

Tend to measure beauty in tuns.





The first is a freak with a masochistic streak

And the second is a kitten up a tree

The third is a flirt with an awful print skirt

And the fourth is pretending to be me

The fifth wears a mac and never turns his back

The sixth never shows his eyes

But the seventh Deadly Finn is so tall and slim

He shoulda never been with those guys.





Although variety's the spice of life

A steady rhythm is the source

Simplicity's the crucial thing

systemically of course (work it all out like Norbert Wiener)

So if those French girls say to you

'Would you like your ashes piped ?'

You'll have to take their word for it

It's the only thing to take...