Lyrics:

I think Colonel Mustard did it in the billiard room, yeah yeah
They say his salsa workshops are a harbinger of doom, yeah yeah

He's takin' itsy bitsy super pointy stipsies
Straight to the middle of the dancefloor
He does the hokey pokey, now the room is getting smokey
He won't read you your rights before they turn out the lights

He's got his mother's hips
He does the dippity dip, he's got delicious quips
He's got his mother's hips
He thinks he's going downtown, now he's smacking his lips

He does not speak your language
Watch your back, his tongue is super dangerous
He's got his thigh-highs and his roller-skates on
You are rolling the dice, he wants you on thin ice

He's serving cheese fondue
On the polar bear rug but the room is bugged
You got mesmerized by the lava lamp
But now the carpet's damp, he's tryin' to sell you some stamps

He's got his mothers' hips
He's on an ego trip, he's got sartorial tips
He's got his mother's hips
He thinks he's going downtown and now he's smackin' his lips

He's got his mother's hips
He does the dippity dip. he's got delicious quips, now baby
He's got his mother's hips
He thinks he's goin' downtown and now he's smackin' his lips