Sid Vicious played a four-string Fender ba** guitar and couldn't sing And everybody hated him except the ones who loved him A ukulele has four strings, but Sid did did not play ukulele He did smack and probably k**ed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen If only Sid had had a ukulele, maybe he would have been happy Maybe he would not have suffered such a sad end He maybe would have not done all that h**n instead He maybe would've sat around just singing nice songs to his girlfriend So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong 'Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn't mean you're failing Do your homework with a fork And eat your fruit loops in the dark And bring your etch-a-sketch to work And play your ukulele Ukulele small and fierceful Ukulele brave and peaceful You can play the ukulele too, it is painfully simple Play your ukulele badly, play your ukulele loudly Ukulele banish evil Ukulele save the people Ukulele gleaming golden from the top of every steeple Lizzie borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks Then gave her father forty-one, and left a tragic puzzle If only they had given her an instrument, those puritans Had lost the plot completely See what happens when you muzzle A person's creativity And do not let them sing and scream And nowadays it's worse 'cause kids have automatic handguns It takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele About the same to teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb YOU DO THE MATH So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong 'Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn't mean you're failing Do your homework with a fork And eat your fruit loops in the dark And bring your flask of jack to work And play your ukulele Ukulele, thing of wonder Ukulele, wand of thunder You can play the ukulele, too In London and down under Play joan jett, and play jacques brel And eminem and neutral milk ho- Tell the children Crush the hatred Play your ukulele naked If anybody tries to steal your ukulele, let them take it Imagine there's no music, imagine there are no songs Imagine that John Lennon wasn't shot in front of his apartment Now imagine if John Lennon had composed "imagine" for the ukulele Maybe people would have truly got the message You may think my approach is simple-minded and naïve Like if you want to change the world then why not quit and feed the hungry But people for millennia have needed music to survive And that is why I promised John that I will not feel guilty So play your favorite Beatles song And make the subway fall in love They're only $19.95, that isn't lots of money Play until the sun comes up And play until your fingers suffer Play LCD soundsystem songs on your ukulele Quit the b**hing on your blog And stop pretending art is hard Just limit yourself to three chords And do not practice daily You'll minimize some stranger's sadness With a piece of wood and plastic Holy f**, it's so fantastic, playing ukulele Eat your homework with a fork And do your fruit loops in the dark Bring your etch-a-sketch to work Your flask of Jack Your vibrator Your fear of heights Your Nikon lens Your mom and dad Your disco stick Your soundtrack to "karate kid" Your ginsu knives Your rosary Your new Rebecca Black CD Your favorite room Your bowie knife Your stuffed giraffe Your new gla** eye Your sousaphone Your breakfast tea Your Nick Drake tapes Your giving tree Your ice cream truck Your missing wife Your will to live Your urge to cry Remember we're all gonna die So play, your ukulele