Guess what it is I'm holding down here in my hand
It's given pleasure to millions both up and down the land
It's my little ukulele, my treasure and my joy
I plonked and plucked it daily ever since I was a boy
I practised and I practised that right hand rhythm routine
And now I've got an action like a massage parlour queen
But nobody does it like the ukulele man
No one can hit that spot if he can't make you smile
Then no one can, he's the original from way back yonder when it all began
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
I've such coordination in my hands
In my fingers and my thumb
An action learned from years of sitting down to have a strum
My right hand goes like billio
Up top my left one fiddles
Performing archipelagos and flams and paradiddles
I stroll into the spotlight
I give the strings a clout
But when I start to warble
The people start to shout
Where's George?
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
No one can hit that spot if he can't make you smile
Then no one can, just leaning on a lamp
Or TT racing at the Isle of Man
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
I like a bit of blues and boogie
Like a bit of skiffle and soul
But what I love's a little stick of blackpool
Rock, rock, rock and roll
When women idolise me
I always have to tell them
Stop poking at me pletrums
And don't violate me vellum
And though my technique thrills them
I have never worked out why
At the end of my performance
They always seem to sigh
Is that all? Don't I get an encore?
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
No one can hit that spot if he can't make you smile
Then no one can hit that spot if he can't make you smile
Then no one can, he's window cleaning with his eyes on fan life
Fanny's fan
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
Everybody!
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
No one can hit that spot if he can't make you smile
Then no one can, he's window cleaning with his eyes on fan life
Fanny's fan
Nobody does it like the ukulele man
I've got crates of his 78s
and I'm his greatest fan.