I do not speak of Cretan Man,
But of the dark Vrahassian,
He is both proud and very shrewd,
And on occasion can be lewd,
It isn't hard to make him smile,
Though seriousness is more his style,
And now his donkey is no more,
His status is a 4 x 4.
He'll drink the raki till he's blind,
And miss a day - but never mind!
He'll throw his waistcoat on and pose,
But never ever blow his nose,
With dogs and gun he looks the part,
Knee boots indeed are very smart,
And as he strides towards the door,
Remote unlocks his 4 x 4.
His woman should make sure he's fed,
And give him what he asks in bed,
But even then he's apt to roam,
Some night when he is far from home,
He'll twist his tash, put on the look,
And seek some other skirt to fuck,
He'll fuck and think of her no more,
Now that he has a 4 x 4.
And when bouzouki rhythms beat,
His very soul is in his feet,
And nothing can replace the dance,
So muted is he in his trance,
And to the music he displays
A passion that could last for days,
He even disregards the law,
Now that he has a 4 x 4.
This man you'll say is very rough,
But I prefer to think him tough,
There are occasions he may lie,
But for his brother he would die,
I know you'll think me quite insane,
But listen, please, let me explain,
You see I do so much adore
This mountain man with 4 x 4.
Though often he is very wild,
In many ways he's like a child,
And though his moods are continental,
Still, he can be very gentle,
But most of all I love this man,
Because he doesn't care a dam,
And when his landscape I explore,
It has to be by 4 x 4.
