Tut men

John and Steve were walking the dogs,

Moaning knees, internal monologues,

“Just one sit…” by gum, by God,

They crowned themselves on a rotten old log.

Dogs went mental, pulled the leads,

Barking Morse code: “Mate, that’s fleas!”

But John and Steve, thick as planks,

Sat there smiling… thanks but no thanks.

Chorus (big & silly)

🎵 Oooooh John and Steve — SIT, SIT, SIT!

On the flea hotel they chose to sit!

Scratch, scratch, shimmy-shimmy-shake,

Everywhere’s itchy — for goodness’ sake!

Oooooh John and Steve — what a log!

Five-star fleas and no room service, dog! 🎵

Verse 2

Up they jump — something’s crawling,

John’s doing shapes, Steve’s half-falling,

Slapping legs like he’s swatting flies,

Scratching places that ruin lives.

Dogs just stare, tails in sync,

That look that says “We tried to think”,

Steve’s doing lunges, John’s in pain,

Both blaming bark, wood, earth and rain.

Chorus (shorter, faster)

🎵 Oooooh John and Steve — scratch attack!

That log’s now wanted, dead or back!

Itch, itch, wiggle, panic hop,

Someone burn that log — or stop! 🎵

Outro (spoken with music under)

So if you’re tired and need a seat,

And see a log that looks quite neat…

Don’t sit.

Don’t think.

Just walk along.

🎵 Oooooh John and Steve…

Still scratching. 🎵