You, Oktoberfest, are without compare,
Overpriced everything, and especially the beer.
Drunken Debauchery, in December we do detox,
Fill up on roast pork, dumplings, or a slice from an ox.
Fill up my glass, sir, ten euros is very dear.
With girls scantily clad, call it tradition I might add,
After a liter or two, the lager ain’t half bad.
Up on the benches, the floor is not far,
Wooden floors cushion blows, they aren’t really that hard.
Teenies step aside now, and be a good lad.
The lights go up, and the place is a mess,
If I could only find a way to get her out of that dress.
Not this time, sorry, your lederhosen are too poor,
Big security guards, not German, forcibly showing you the door.
Pour yourself into a taxi, ask thy ‘what’s my address?’