My heart it goes out to that poor little dutch boy
Who stopped a great flood with the tip of his thumb
Through parades and medals he felt no joy
And took to his bed with a bottle of rum

The queen she arrived in her motorcade
To give the good dutch boy a commemorative pen
But he watched as the milkmaids all withered and grayed
And he knew that the waters must rise again

Because the world is made up of milk and scissors
Milk and scissors in a spiraling chain
Milk and scissors like a cheap squirting flower
Milk and scissors like worms when it rains