In far Switzerland
Lives a goat herd whose hand
Has a palm that is calloused and worn
From his idle vice
Despite mum's advice
Not to play with his old alpine horn
When he stuck his cock
In a large cuckoo clock
His helmet went right through the cranker
He went
And they call him the yodeling *
In the mountains up there
Young women are rare
And that's why the goat herd depends
On holes found in trees
And emmental cheese
And the arses of four-legged friends
But one nanny goat
Aimed a kick at his scrote
And caught him one heck of a flanker
He went
And they call him the yodeling *
Oh, yodel-o, yodel-o
He's singing so melodious
His voice seems to know
To yodel-o
Whenever he tightens his truss
While digging for sheep
In a snowdrift so deep
The corpse of a tourist he found
She was stiff as a board
But when she was thawed
He had her from all sides around
At the thirty-third stroke
The maiden awoke
And bit off his old hanky-panker
He went
And they call him the yodeling *
The valley's all echo
His yodel falsetto
My darling, my darling
Please say where you are
From a mountain top high
He hears this reply
Bah, bah, bah
And your old lady too
Bah, bah, bah
Bah, bah, bah

Bah, bah, bah

















Bah, bah, bah
you