In the mountains of China, where the Yangste does run,
We would gather each night for to have us some fun.
There was one of our nunber, a panda by race
And we all of us thought him the pride of the place.
He'd a flute made of bamboo and when the evening did come
He would play on that flute to the sound of the drum
You can talk of your fiddles, your harp or your lute
But nothing could sound like the old Panda's Flute.