Make a tunnel, make a tunnel
Through the bottom of the creek
And then come, expect no trouble,
For grilled meat and wine all week.

Your guitars are well-worth bringing,
Once you have adjusted pegs.
Don’t forget: in the beginning,
You must dull your pointed fangs.

When you have an understanding -
Every highway leads to Rome,
Then you come without much planning,
Then you visit us at home.

Fords are something to consider:
They exist, just look again;
Or you swim across the river -
A good glory is your gain.

Throw away the knife you’re hiding,
Drop your grudge against us all.
And to cross the stream by wading,
Bring some timber or a pole.

When it comes to sowing, moving,
You must hurry up and think.
Or it’ll be of your own choosing:
Crying over your spilled milk.

You’d be sad with your decisions
If you woke up the next day
Just to find that all the bridges
Had been built without your say.

So, make a tunnel, make a tunnel
Through the bottom of the creek!
And to stay away from trouble,
Don’t forget to dull your teeth!