Egyptian cream, she loves to smear.
She loves to smear it everywhere.
On her face and on her hands,
Till she feels like she's a man.

And when the change comes, and the hair grows all over her skin,
She's a natural; she's part of
The body she's in.

In the Sahara, there she lay
On an ironing board, one day.
She was gone for seven months.
Hadn't guessed what happened once.

When they told her: "You're pregnant," she threw up her hands,
And thousands of fingers
Grew out of the sand.

Egyptian cream.

Egyptian cream, she loves to smear.
She loves to smear it everywhere.
When you're sore, too sore to dream,
Try some more Egyptian cream.

And when the change comes,
And the grass grows all over the mound,
The tadpoles come slithering
Out of the ground.

Egyptian cream.

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): ROBYN HITCHCOCK