What can I say? They arrived here one day
From a planet south west of the Skimmed-Milky Way.
They came in pyjamas, each riding space llamas,
And threatened us all with their loaded bananas.

They all spoke Chinese and ate fresh garden peas,
And when they passed lampposts would let out a sneeze.
So we built lampposts here and we built lampposts there.
As time passed we built lampposts everywhere.

We built them in shops and below sudden drops.
We built them where circles appeared in the crops.
We built them in pools and in primary schools,
And in castles where princesses kept all their jewels.

We built them on stages (and that took us ages).
We built them on wheels for the hamsters in cages.
We built them on bridges, in forests with midges,
And replaced all the lamps in the ovens and fridges.

So, as you can see, if you’ve listened to me,
We built them wherever a lamppost could be.
And the visitors passed them whilst eating their peas.
As they passed underneath they let out a great sneeze,

And then a great cough and their noses fell off
And, though it seems mean, all us humans did scoff.
See, their noses were where their three hearts were positioned -
Without their three hearts they were in no condition

To take over the Earth with their funny old ways
Of chewing on worms and of juggling on sleighs;
Of copying ducks and of licking old books
And staring through windows with curious looks;

Of playing space bingo and talking weird lingo;
Of going to clubs but refusing to mingle;
Of breaking up phones with old dinosaur bones
And of singing songs backwards in old people’s homes.

And with no hearts inside our new visitors died
And, I have to admit, one or two of us cried.
But that’s how and why we got rid of that race
Of strange zombie vampire frogs from outer space.