Woorden: Flanders & Swann. The Hippopotamus.

A bold Hippopotamus was standing one day

On the banks of the cool Shalimar

He gazed at the bottom as it peacefully lay

By the light of the evening star.

Away on a hilltop, sat combing her hair

Was a fair Hippopotami maid;

The Hippopotamus was no ignoramus

And sang her this sweet serenade:



'Mud, Mud, glorious mud

Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!

So follow me, follow

Down to the hollow

And there let us wallow

In glorious mud'



The fair Hippopotama he aimed to entice

From her seat on that hilltop above

As she hadn't got a Ma to give her advice

Came tiptoeing down to her love.

Like thunder the forest re-echoed the sound

of the song that they sang when they met

His inamorata adjusted her garter

And lifted her voice in duet (in Russian)



(in Russian, DS sings, MF translates --> See bottom of page)

'Mud, Mud, glorious mud

Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!

So follow me, follow

Down to the hollow

And there let us wallow

In glorious mud!'



That should improve our cultural relations



The bold Hippopotami began to convene

On the banks of that river so wide

I wonder, now, what am I to say of the scene

That ensued by the Swhalimar side?

They dived all at once, with an ear-splitting splosh

Then rose to the surface again

A regular army

of Hippopotami

All singing this haunting refrain:



'Mud, Mud, glorious mud

Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood

So follow me, follow

Down to the hollow

And there let us wallow

In glorious mud'!