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Chorus
The fortunate chaps, felicitous chaps,
The fairy-like chaps we are.
The people they left the land, the land.
But they went on working hard;
And the village green that had got mislaid
Turned up in the squire's back-yard:
But twenty men of us all got work
On a bit of his motor car;
And we all became, with the world's acclaim.
The marvellous mugs we are:
Chorus
The marvellous mugs, miraculous mugs,
The mystical mugs we are.
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