[Verse 1]
With a face like a crab's bus ticket
And skin like a llama's door mat
He was always gonna struggle
Nature had seen to that

He dreamt of those old-fashioned movies
Where Bogart gets the dame
But a lorry load of Lorre
Is still the score of fame

[Chorus]
And he sings...

(La, la la) "I may be ugly, but I've got the bottle opener"
(La, la la) He may be fat, but he's got the cork screw
(La, la la) And in the party, party politics of ugly fame
(La, la la) There is no ugly queue...

[Verse 2]
With a chin like a tramp's jukebox
And eyes like a rhino's ashtray
It was always going to be pantomime
That made him sing and dance anyway

When you feel like London
And you look like Hull
You think Travolta pulled Newton John
Who did John hurt Paul?
[Chorus]

[Bridge]
(La, la la) And they compliment the compliment
(La, la la) And it's driving you insane
(La, la la) It's like talking to a helicopter
(La, la la) When you know that you're a plane

[Verse 3]
Breath like a mountain goat's satchel
Nose like a pool of sick
(La, la la) But you always leave your flies ahoy
(La, la la) 'Cause the world wants to suck your dick

Let it suck...

[Outro]
And he sings...
(La, la la) "I may be ugly, but I've got the bottle opener"
(La, la la) He may be fat, but he's got the cork screw
(La, la la) And in the party, party politics of the ugly fame
(La, la, la) There is no, there is no...

(La, la la) There is no, is no ugly queue...
(La, la...)