so bootylicious puppets aint your thing perhaps,

then give a warm welcome to, the manthro chaps,,

those fine and swanky gentlemen in suits and ties,,

but,, the hunger of the beast burns beneath their disguise,

here's bartiemus cholmondeley featherstonehaugh the third

preening from his glossy whiskers,,, a scrap of fresh bird,

sir roderick looks down his nose and tuts,,

but his bushy tails twitching and hes craving nuts,

you might learn something bout yourself, you know,,,

an angel on the surface but,, a beast below,

yet that baser nature aint your real foe,

Chuck your razor away

let the fur grow

let the fur grow