whirligig twister
dancer prancer
st vitus's quester
chancer romancer

the inkman cometh
from that nether world
where dream and coincidence
are darkly furled
accident rubbed him
into puzzling light
he is what he isn't
(he's the geist of zeit)

whirligig twister
dancer prancer
st vitus's quester
chancer romancer

he cannot move
but he never stops
particle-wave
(ask the science-cops)
all creation swirls
from his restless frame
he isn't what he is
that's the inkman's game

whirligig twister
dancer prancer
st vitus's quester
chancer romancer
(ii) ninkam poop

so this the inkman's alter ego
the fool who shadows us
wherever we go
he can't get right a thing in the light
desperately wants to be our amigo
but he knows us
knows us

knows us from the inside out
each beat of the heart
(he's in with a shout)
sets him dancing (call it prancing)
he's what the dreamt world's all about
and we're just à la carte
à la carte

to him his à la carte (his me
and you) his raison d'etre
such a fool â€" we can't be-
lieve he's a manifest of our mutual quest
to live to the full fate's strange decree
etcetera
etcetera

etcetera â€" wow â€" this idiot
poop the inkman bringeth
(proof he's what he's not)
is the sum already of our going steady
(on even keel â€" patiently - why not)
and why not he singeth
danceth

danceth our lot (our ninkam poop)
our nobility of folly
(our life's amazing scoop)
the making of joy from almost lost alloy
an astonishing loop the loop
by two half off their trolley
how jolly