Оригинален текст
He lives his life down on the beach,
his grilfriend's got the skin of a peach.
He likes a good time and he knows how to get it,
rolls his own, you've gotta give him credit.
As the waves come crashing to the sh*re,
Tipuki Thunder give me more, more, more.
Don't need booze or no wh*re,
Tipuki Thunder give me more, more, more.
Tipuki Thunder, maui waui lightning.
His pockets bulge with wonders from all over the world,
and he's a real big bro' to all the boys and girls.
Holds his own but does tend to drawl,
he's got a photo of us going over the Niagra Falls.
He's a nice guy but don't mess with him,
he's a nice guy but don't mess with him.
He call us the 'jeebers' and takes us to gigs,
'cus back in the States you know, we're pretty big.
But I had to be down, I could not compete,
with air in my head and lead in my feet.
When he came to London the saw,
a midnight flit to find another bed.
But back home on the beach he can do no harm,
with his video collection and Charlie farm.
He's a nice guy but don't mess with him,
or you'll end up with a pair of concerete boots.