“Good King Boroslav looked out,
on the night of grungers.
Saw them wurdling round about,
Armed with rubber plungers.
Brightly shone their artefacts,
Red their possets glowing.
He knew not from whence they came,
But he knew where they were going.
Out he went into the snow,
Loud his lummocks ringing.
With his moulies all aglow,
And his trousers clinging.
Back he brought those grungers bold
Warmed them by the fire dogs,
Saved them from the bitter cold
By thawing out their Yule logs.
Those who would a grunger be,
Take heed of this warning.
For there is no guarantee,
You will live till morning.
If you wurdle in the snow
In a spot you’ve chosen.
Dawn’s first light is going to show
Your woggling irons are frozen”
To be sung to the tune of Good King Wenceslas, courtesy of Rambling Syd Rumpo (as sung to Barry Took and Marty Feldman)