Of all of the instruments to stick with in one's life
There's one subset I wouldn't choose, but
If you want to, that's just fi-ine
But it has to be said: you look like a twit
With your cheeks puffed out ea-each side
Like a hamster, looks dumb, dude, just looks sad
May sound mean, these words I say

All those blokes who play horns
They all look like such silly so-o-o-ods
Even though they ca-an play some real rad, ra-ad songs
Pity blo-okes who play horns
Yeah, I do

Those saxophonists, they make a sexy noise, that may be so
But that's all that they're wanted for, that's so restrictive, sucks, you know?
And those who play the trombone (ooh-ooh)
Their arms must ache quite a bit (ooh-ooh)
Hope their sweaty palms won't make them slip no-ow, cause I (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Don't want that slide flyin', ow

Pity all those blokes who play horns
They all look like such total clo-o-o-ods
Though they show up o-on some of my fav'ri-ite songs (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Pity blo-okes who play horns

The tuba's the worst now
Luggin' it around's a pain
Notes either get drowned out by you-our pee-eers
Or they score fat people's gai-aits

I'd never suggest givin' up, you wanna ho-orn it up? Then play
Ignore those who make "horny" jokes, cause they're just lame
But I'm still gonna feel real sad for you (ooh-ooh)
When you keep playin' all those farty tunes 'n' (ooh-ooh)
Gettin' crap from anti-ska ty-ypes (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
And playin' jazz for the thousandth time

Pity all those blokes who play horns
They all look like utter moro-o-o-ons
Even if they ca-an play some really swee-eet songs (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Pity blo-okes who play horns