Oh boy, the sound of music is giving me itchy feet, as the tunes the crickets play have a real hypnotic beat, a beat, a beat, a beat.

I am built for trouble with dangerous bursts of speed, not to move with rhythm and elegance gently on my feet, my feet, my feet.

If I could hold my hoofs quite still I could rumba with my middle, but my thick skin won't bend and sway, no way, no way, no way.

I think I need a partner this old tree will do, then I'll rub my side against its bark and the tree will dance with me, with me, with me.

Come on everybody hitch up to a tree and scratch, hold on tight until we get it right, then I'll start us off on three, on three, on three.

If you are in the jungle and the trees begin to shake, it could be Mr Hippo and friends dancing to the crickets beat, the beat, the beat.

So why don't you and your gang drop by, sidle up against a tree, and join in the craziest, shaking Hippo-dance with me, with me, with me.