Sid Vicious played a four-string Fender ba** guitar and couldn't sing
And everybody hated him except the ones who loved him
A ukulele has four strings, but Sid did did not play ukulele
He did smack and probably k**ed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen
If only Sid had had a ukulele, maybe he would have been happy
Maybe he would not have suffered such a sad end
He maybe would have not done all that h**n instead
He maybe would've sat around just singing nice songs to his girlfriend
So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong
'Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn't mean you're failing
Do your homework with a fork
And eat your fruit loops in the dark
And bring your etch-a-sketch to work
And play your ukulele
Ukulele small and fierceful
Ukulele brave and peaceful
You can play the ukulele too, it is painfully simple
Play your ukulele badly, play your ukulele loudly
Ukulele banish evil
Ukulele save the people
Ukulele gleaming golden from the top of every steeple
Lizzie borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks
Then gave her father forty-one, and left a tragic puzzle
If only they had given her an instrument, those puritans
Had lost the plot completely
See what happens when you muzzle
A person's creativity
And do not let them sing and scream
And nowadays it's worse 'cause kids have automatic handguns
It takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele
About the same to teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb
YOU DO THE MATH
So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong
'Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn't mean you're failing
Do your homework with a fork
And eat your fruit loops in the dark
And bring your flask of jack to work
And play your ukulele
Ukulele, thing of wonder
Ukulele, wand of thunder
You can play the ukulele, too
In London and down under
Play joan jett, and play jacques brel
And eminem and neutral milk ho-
Tell the children
Crush the hatred
Play your ukulele naked
If anybody tries to steal your ukulele, let them take it
Imagine there's no music, imagine there are no songs
Imagine that John Lennon wasn't shot in front of his apartment
Now imagine if John Lennon had composed "imagine" for the ukulele
Maybe people would have truly got the message
You may think my approach is simple-minded and naïve
Like if you want to change the world then why not quit and feed the hungry
But people for millennia have needed music to survive
And that is why I promised John that I will not feel guilty
So play your favorite Beatles song
And make the subway fall in love
They're only $19.95, that isn't lots of money
Play until the sun comes up
And play until your fingers suffer
Play LCD soundsystem songs on your ukulele
Quit the b**hing on your blog
And stop pretending art is hard
Just limit yourself to three chords
And do not practice daily
You'll minimize some stranger's sadness
With a piece of wood and plastic
Holy f**, it's so fantastic, playing ukulele
Eat your homework with a fork
And do your fruit loops in the dark
Bring your etch-a-sketch to work
Your flask of Jack
Your vibrator
Your fear of heights
Your Nikon lens
Your mom and dad
Your disco stick
Your soundtrack to "karate kid"
Your ginsu knives
Your rosary
Your new Rebecca Black CD
Your favorite room
Your bowie knife
Your stuffed giraffe
Your new gla** eye
Your sousaphone
Your breakfast tea
Your Nick Drake tapes
Your giving tree
Your ice cream truck
Your missing wife
Your will to live
Your urge to cry
Remember we're all gonna die
So play, your ukulele