The queer old Equator slid right off the map.
“Now, Sir, where is that Equator?”
CHORUS
The queer old Equator,
The dear old Equator,
The quaint old Equator,
Slid right off the map.
Directly the song was finished Nimbus strode up to the Equine Ox and, shaking his fist angrily at him, demanded: