Migrate to some kinder sky
Perky, shiny, glittering things,
Leave the wing that holds your wings.
Fossil Man, you too must pack,
Take your slab, Sir, on your back,
Or if you’d prefer a ride,
Mount the Mammoth by your side.
Eggs, be blowed, if you’d not break,
You your eggsit now must make;
Yes, your yolk must turn to legs,