Beaker's Choice 433

I'm taking off my hat, tying up my white tie, brushing off my tails.

I'm duding up my shirt front, putting in the shirt and stuff, polishing my nails.

I'm stepping out, my dear, to breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class.

And I trust that you'll excuse my dust when I step on the gas, for I'll be there.

Putting down my top hat, mussing up my white tie, dancing in my tails.