That mop shock is a clumsy, clinging cloak of hair--
Look at that toupeed girl.
It is a shocking sight that gives the goats a scare--
Look at that toupeed girl.

It clashes with her gownish clothes,
It lashes, in the wind, her nose,
It's the worst thing when it curls--
Look at that toupeed girl.

That mop shock often slips and does a "gelly" roll--
Look at that toupeed girl.
To keep it locked, she needs something that grabs and holds--
Look at that toupeed girl.

It ain't a braid you would call top-shelf.
Was it made from a defurred elk?
Now it's slickened and it won't curl--
Look at that toupeed girl

She should keep it wired
Or there's gonna be "fall out."
She is attired
In a "hairberdashery" shroud.

Like a lady who placed her merkin on her bean--
Look at that toupeed girl.
It itches, won't cling, got a ghastly sheen--
Look at that toupeed girl.

It looks like rat fur when she dyes fake hair
Or like cholera's lurking in there.
It's the worst thing when it curls--
Look at that toupeed girl.

Stuck on, stuck on, stuck on. . . .

Like a lady who placed her merkin on her bean--
Look at that toupeed girl.
It itches, won't cling, got a ghastly lean--
Look at that toupeed girl.

Like fur of a pussycat
That's perturbed in a hissy spat.
Got to lick it so it won't curl--
Look at that toupeed girl.