There is hope if the way of the Boosh,
Tis no ordinary religion nay,
Though it be wondrous and mighty,
There be no singing of dull and dreary hymns,
There be no incessant drinking of tepid tea and munching of cheap biscuits,
And mindlessly boring flower arrangements,
This religion be full of strange creatures, jazz mavericks and the most fabulous of haircuts,
Behold the all encompassing, animal loving (though not in a bestiality sense) glam-rock-jump-suit laden grandeur of The Mighty Boosh!
Your king is no ordinary king,
He ahs no white robes to hide his enticing androgynous frame,
No beard to disguise his chiselled chin,
He is the endlessly stylish,
Ragamuffin little man King of The Mods!
There be no bread and fishes here,
In his infinite wisdom,
He gives you the funk!
The hula hoops of Bovril!
And off cuts that would make angels weep!
Worship and adore his root boosted locks and scarf’s of silk and poncho of joy!
And thou shalt dwell in the light of the Midnight Barber for all eternity!
His father is no ordinary father,
He is a humble Satre reading handsome god,
Who bestows his wisdom in the form of freestyle be-bop,
And rains down his infinite intellectualism with the grace of a veteran actor,
Behold his sensitive eyes,
His heavenly singing voice,
His manly torso,
And worship at eh psychedelic shrine of Papa Moon.
Commandments of the Boosh
Thou shalt wear ponchos and sombreros all day every day and be off thy tits on happiness
Thou shalt worship the off cuts of the mighty King of the Mods and treasure them and rub them over thy naked self, dribbling with pleasure!
Thou shalt never give a lift to a cockney with a box, twill always end bad!
Thou shalt listen to free style jazz funk and electro pop, for that is the only true music
Thou shalt have a cool yet simple dance routine for every surreal encounter
Add a commandment and lets get the world off its tits on Booshness!