Oh! he's rippin', rippin'! A tailor's block set skippin',
He's all bad debts and cigarettes and bets and kümmel-nippin',
His head's without a grain of sense, his hand he's got no grip in,
He drags his walk and tags his talk with "Rippin', rippin', rippin'"!
His faultless dress is the result of unremitting study,
He's quite the perfect "Johnny," never messed and never muddy,
His coat is always baggy and his hat is always shiny,
His boots are always varnished to their pointed toes so tiny.
His shirts, his ties, his walking-sticks are marvels to remember,
And with the seasons change from January to December.