On an isle far away one man sits
"Tell us why" his hosts cry; and he spits
"Do the worst that you can
I'll remain a free man!"
Two years later they've lost, and he splits.

In the belly's a drum made of steel
Spinning a million revs by the feel
We'll fly low, and he'll drop
With a hippety-hop
And a bang to make Miss Möhne reel