Once a large contralto sang about the Nibelung
Costumed as Wagneresque Valkyrie
But a small voice was heard as she paused to fill her ample lungs
"Those look like falsies, Brunhilde, to me"

Falsies Brunhilde, falsies Brunhilde
Those look like falsies Brunhilde to me
For a small voice was heard as she paused to fill her ample lungs
"Those look like falsies, Brunhilde, to me"


Down came the singer, down to the orchestra pit
Skittling flautists and cellists with glee
And she ranted and raved as she flattened half the orchestra
"Who called out 'falsies, Brunhilde' to me?"

Falsies Brunhilde, falsies Brunhilde
Who called out "falsies Brunhilde" to me
And she ranted and raved as she flattened half the orchestra
"Who called out 'falsies, Brunhilde' to me?"


Up jumped the oboist, tried to make his getaway
Tripped on a trombone and sent it off-key
And he whined as the marauding Alto dropped on top of him
"Did I say 'falsies, Brunhilde'? Not me!"

Falsies Brunhilde, falsies Brunhilde
Who shouted "falsies, Brunhilde", not me
And he screamed as he vanished underneath the valkyrie
"Did I say 'falsies, Brunhilde'? Not me!"


Up reared Brunhilde, whipping off her armour plate
Proudly displaying immense double-Ds
And jaws could be seen dropping all around the op'ra house
Those sure ain't falsies, Brunhilde, whoopee

Falsies Brunhilde, falsies Brunhilde
Those sure ain't falsies, Brunhilde, whoopee
And jaws could be seen dropping all around the op'ra house
Those sure ain't falsies, Brunhilde, whoopee


Poor little oboist, stuck under the embonpont
Asphyxiated, but did die happy
Now his ghost may be heard as fat ladies sing the Nibelung
"Those look like falsies, Brunhilde, to me"

Falsies Brunhilde, falsies Brunhilde
Those look like falsies Brunhilde to me
Now his ghost may be heard as fat ladies sing the Nibelung
"Those look like falsies, Brunhilde, to me"