Fighting Trousers

[Intro] (Spoken)
Ah, Jeffrey, what's that you have in your hand boy? Pass it over. A telegram? Oh dear. Seems someone has been biting me. Fetch me my trousers at once! No, not those, those are my time-travel trousers! Those are my tea trousers? Got it, those ones, My fighting trousers!

[Verse 1]
Dear Sir, regarding your recent foray
Into the rap business and the scene you portray
See I don't normally approve of war games
But "He's biting you" is what they all say
And by Harry, they might be right--
This is hip hop, not an Elvis night!
Shelve this Professor impersonation
Let it end now, it's impertinent waiting!
You seem a reasonable chap, what you need to do is rap
But not parody chap hop
Cause that's not proper, just not cricket!
Put away your ukulele or I'll tell where to stick it!

[Chorus]
I - Don't like your tweed, sir!
Will - Teach you the professor's ready!
Not - Let's see who strikes the loudest!
Lose - Put on my fighting trousers!

[Verse 2]
I've got super producers and fans that play me
You've got a granddad's mustache and a ukulele
Don't look around sir, I'm speaking to you
Roll up your shirt sleeves, Queensbury rules
Never test professors with the cleverest wits
Let's settle this like gentlemen: armed with heavy sticks
On a rotating plate, with spikes like Flash Gordon
And you're Peter Duncan; I gave you fair warning
When this George Formby clone is performing
Audiences go home before he begins talking
A new career might be more rewarding
I'm a bright Brighton peer, you're rap's Piers Morgan

[Chorus]
I - Don't like your tweed, sir!
Will - Teach you the professor's ready!
Not - Let's see who strikes the loudest!
Lose - Put on my fighting trousers!

[Verse 3]
I'm not seeing you at ciphers or workshops with kids or gigs
Dear sir, you're not worthy of this!
Sold out to Coca-Cola
Used for a trend
And that means you're banned
From using a pen
Hope it's safe to assume you won't do this again
Set foot on my stage and get ruined again
Be out, Mr. B, I've set the egg timer
There's not room in town for two gentlemen rhymers
Leave town by the end of this instrumental
Yours, et cetera, et cetera, sincerely, and so forth
Professor Elemental

[Chorus]
I - Don't like your tweed, sir!
Will - Teach you the professor's ready!
Not - Let's see who strikes the loudest!
Lose - Put on my fighting trousers!

[Outro] (Spoken)
Dahh, sorry, I'm sorry Geoffrey but it-it gets my goat, gets my dander right up! Bloody told him. No, no jazz solo, this is supposed to be a diss song! Geoffrey, get off the drums!