Sid Vicious played a four-string fender bass guitar and couldn’t sing
And everybody hated him except the ones who loved him
A ukulele has four strings, but Sid did not play ukulele
He did smack and probably killed his girlfriend Nancy Spungen
If only Sid had had a ukulele, maybe he would have been happy
Maybe he would not have suffered such a sad end
He maybe would have not done all that heroin
Instead he maybe would’ve sat around
Just singing nice songs to his girlfriend

So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong
‘Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn’t mean you’re failing
Do your homework with a fork and eat your fruit loops in the dark
And bring your etch-a-sketch to work and play your ukulele

Ukulele small and fierceful
Ukulele brave and peaceful
You can play the ukulele too it is painfully simple
Play your ukulele badly, play your ukulele loudly
Ukulele banish evil
Ukulele save the people
Ukulele gleaming golden from the top of every steeple

Lizzie Borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks
Then gave her father forty-one, and left a tragic puzzle
If only they had given her an instrument, those Puritans
Had lost the plot completely
See what happens when you muzzle
A person’s creativity and do not let them sing and scream
And nowadays it’s worse ‘cause kids have automatic handguns
It takes about an hour to teach someone to play the ukulele
About same to teach someone to build a standard pipe bomb
You do the math!

So play your favorite cover song, especially if the words are wrong
‘Cause even if your grades are bad, it doesn’t mean you’re failing
Do your homework with a fork and eat your fruit loops in the dark
And bring your flask of jack to work and play your ukulele

Ukulele, thing of wonder
Ukulele, wand of thunder
You can play the ukulele too
In London and down under
Play Joan Jett, and play Jacques Brel
And Eminem and Neutral Milk Ho-
Tell the children crush the hatred
Play your ukulele naked
And if anybody tries to steal your ukulele, let them take it

Imagine there’s no music, imagine there are no songs
Imagine that John Lennon wasn’t shot in front of his apartment
Now imagine if John Lennon had composed “imagine” for the ukulele
Maybe people would have truly got the message

You may think my approach is simple-minded and naïve
Like if you want to change the world
Then why not quit and feed the hungry?
But people for millennia have needed music to survive
And that is why I’ve promised John that I will not feel guilty

So play your favourite Beatles song
And make the subway fall in love
They’re only $19.95, that isn’t lots of money
Play until the sun comes up
And play until your fingers suffer
Play LCD Soundsystem songs on your ukulele

Quit the bitching on your blog
And stop pretending art is hard
Just limit yourself to three chords
And do not practice daily
You’ll minimize some stranger’s sadness
With a piece of wood and plastic
Holy fuck it’s so fantastic, playing ukulele

Eat your homework with a fork and do your fruit loops in the dark
and bring your etch-a-sketch to work, your flask of jack, your vibrator, your fear of heights, your Nikon lens, your mom and dad, your disco stick, your soundtrack to “Karate Kid”, your Ginsu knives, your rosary, your new Rebecca Black CD, your favorite room, your Bowie knife, your stuffed giraffe, your new glass eye, your sousaphone, your breakfast tea, your Nick Drake tapes, your Giving Tree, your ice cream truck, your missing wife, your will to live, your urge to cry

Remember we’re all gonna die
So play your ukulele!